World History 101
by imagination junkie
Summary: It's my final year of college and I have to take what I've been dreading most: my 6 humanities credits.  So I signed up for a world history class.  For help a shady bookseller sold me a little globe that's supposed to make history "come alive".  Too bad I didn't know he meant it literally.  OCxVarious.
1. It's a Pirate's Life for Me?

Hello and welcome to my story! I don't really read much Hetalia fanfiction, but I read this awesome story by Atama Ga Kuru Teru called 'World is Ours' and was inspired. So I wrote this story. Or this chapter anyways. This story is kinda based on hers so I don't claim credit for certain ideas, but if you aren't familiar with her story then I don't want to ruin it for you!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or certain idea's from Atama Ga Kuru Teru's story 'World is Ours', but I do own my characters and this plot.

**Chapter 1: It's a Pirate's Life for Me?**

A bell tinkles somewhere in the back of the shop as Kaylie pushes the door open. My eyes narrow as the smell of must and old books washes over me. Inside the store it is dark, the lights not nearly bright enough to illuminate the entire thing. And it's dusty, long motes of it swirling lazily in the air, visible from the afternoon sunshine that manages to make it through the grimy windows.

"So…what exactly are we doing here again?" I ask Kaylie as I reluctantly follow her inside.

"Buying our books, duh." Kylie tells me, throwing a good-natured smile over her shoulder.

Right. Textbooks. For school. It sounded like a good idea when Kaylie told me about it. Just come to this little hole-in-the-wall bookstore where we could get our textbooks for cheap. Actually it's a fantastic idea seeing as being a college student means I'm pretty much broke and textbooks are ridiculously expensive. But now that I'm inside this dusty little store I'm not so sure.

Wheezy breathing and the sound of shuffling footsteps alerts me to the fact that we're not alone. I hesitantly take a step back as a very old man appears from around a bookshelf. His skin is wrinkled and loose and he stands hunched over, his back clearly not what it once was. His hair is pure white and quite thick for someone his age, sticking up in all directions. He wears thick, owlish glasses, which makes his eyes seem overlarge. But there's a bright glint in them that I can't help but find unnerving.

"Welcome, welcome," he begins, his voice gravelly. "Welcome to my shop. Is there anything I can…" The old man trails off, examining Kaylie and me closely.

"Hi Mr. Wasbash!" Kaylie pipes cheerily.

"Ah, it's you Ms. Jackson," Mr. Wabash replies, adjusting his glasses with a small smile. "You're back again I see."

"Yep! And I brought a friend too. This is Jordan Curren!"

"It's nice to meet you Ms. Curren. Well you two go on ahead. You know where to look Ms. Jackson."

"Thanks Mr. Wabash!" Kaylie gives the old man an enormous smile and then grabs my arm and literally drags me towards the back of the shop. Sighing, I don't resist knowing that it'd be a waste of my time. Feeling someone's gaze on my back I turn and look over my shoulder just before Kaylie and I disappear behind a bookshelf. Mr. Wabash is watching me with an interested look that instantly makes me uncomfortable.

…

I pull another book from the shelf and place it on the large and heavy stack balanced against my hip. As much as this place creeps me out I can't lie and say that Kaylie was wrong. The prices here are cheap. Sure the books are used and most of them are really worn and some are even a few editions too old, but who cares? It's not like the books really change that much from year to year anyways. And seeing as how it's the beginning of my senior year of college the state of my books really doesn't concern me anymore as long as they're still readable.

"You done?' Kaylie asks, her head poking around one of the ubiquitous bookshelves.

"Almost," I reply dully, past the point of caring now.

"Ok, great!" she replies giving me one of her trademark brilliant smiles. "I'm going to go see what's in the romance section. Just come get me when you're ready to check out!"

As Kaylie's head vanishes again I have to resist the urge to sigh. The other thing Kaylie's famous for is her obsession with romance novels. She's forced a couple on me and they're barely more than smut, but what can I do? A girl's entitled to read that stuff if she wants I guess.

Shifting the stack of books around in my arms, I dig my course schedule out of my back pocket. Another sigh escapes my lips as I see the last class that I need to buy books for. History 101: Introduction to World History I. I know, I know it's an introductory history class so it's no big deal. But I've been dreading taking my six humanities credits since I started college and at this point I can't run anymore. As a physics major I have no time for and no interest in history. And yet here it is on my course schedule.

I set off, moving up and down the rows of bookshelves looking for the one undoubtedly large and expensive textbook that I'll need. Finally I find it and with some difficulty I pull it out from where it's wedged on the shelf. Setting the rest of my books down I flip the history book open, trying to squash my feeling of dread as I do so. The book is dog-eared, highlighted, and so scribbled in that it's almost difficult to read. I look at the bookshelf again, but this one is the only copy. Feeling resigned I set the book on the top of my pile and with a grunt pick the whole bunch up again.

"Oh? Taking history I see?" The sound of Mr. Wabash's voice startles me so badly that I nearly drop my books. I shoot him a glare, trying to calm my now racing heart. "But that book is for a 100 level class isn't? Surely you could take one that's more advanced?" he asks me, his head cocking to one side inquisitively making him look even more like an owl.

"I could," I grumble loud enough for him to here. "But I don't want to. History isn't really my thing."

"Ah," he replies, his face breaking into a wide, toothy grin. "I think I might have something that could be of use to you then." He turns away from me and begins to shuffle off, motioning for me to follow.

I stare after him for a long moment. This place just gets creepier and creepier by the minute. But I'm curious despite myself. I follow Mr. Wabash back into the deepest darkest corner of his shop. Here he has a little table set up with a plethora of various knick-knacks. There's a cuckoo clock, an old set of dominos, and several dolls all along with all kinds of other things. Mr. Wabash circles around to the back of the table, shifting through everything like he's looking for something.

Finally Mr. Wabash stops. "Ah here it is," he says, his tone edging on triumphant. He pulls a smallish circular object off the table and holds it out for me to inspect.

It's a globe, just small enough for me to hold in one hand. Just like everything else in this store it looks very old, the paint faded and peeling in some places. The positions of all the countries seem to be current, however, from what I can make of the scrawling script that it is labeled in.

I frown. It's an interesting little artifact, sure, but "How is that going to help me with my history class?"

Mr. Wabash cracks that creepy smile again, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. "Just take my word for it Ms. Curren. It will make history…come alive."

Still frowning I reluctantly take the globe from him as he offers it to me. Flipping it over I see that there is a yellowed price sticker on the bottom. Three dollars? Shrugging I balance the globe on top of my stack of books. Why the hell not?

…

Sighing- I've been doing a lot of that today- I place the second to last book on the pile that has built up beside my bed. Just like every semester I've been looking through my textbooks to get an idea of what I'll have to learn in class before the semester starts. And there's just one left. History. I glare at it as it sits benignly on my desk. This class will be the death of me, I just know it. I stand and make my way over to the desk and, after hesitating for a second, flip the book open to a random page.

A painting of Napoleon Bonaparte on a white horse stares back up at me. Great. A midget with a god complex. This semester is going to be so much fun. I begin to flip through the book, looking for something that's even vaguely interesting. Finally I stop on a page describing pirates and privateers in the Caribbean. I can deal with pirates I think. Pirates are cool. I mean Pirates of the Caribbean is a good movie. The first one anyways. They get kind of weird after that…

I look up from the book to the globe that I've also placed on my desk. I reach out a finger and give it a flick, sending the globe spinning. "Pirates, huh?"

I watch the globe until it slows to a stop, the Western hemisphere facing me. Smiling a bit a reach forward and tap the Caribbean on it. Yea, learning about pirates doesn't sound so bad. Intent on heading back to my bed and going to sleep so that I'll be ready for class tomorrow I turn around…and scream. Free standing, all alone, in the middle of my room is door. In a doorframe.

I grip the desk behind me for support, my hand pressed over my heart as I will its beating to slow. It's just a door right? A door in the middle of the room…Maybe I already went to sleep and I'm dreaming? As I calm down the analytical part of my mind takes over. A door standing in the middle of the room like that is physically impossible and I'm pretty sure I'm not dreaming so…my roommates must be pulling a prank on me. Bastards.

Carefully I move forwards and slowly circle the door. It's probably just cardboard my roommates painted or something. Or not, I realize, as I finish my circuit of it. It's definitely wood. Unpainted and plain, with a shiny, round brass doorknob on one side. Ok so it's real. They must have snuck it in here or something while I was reading…right? I give the door a push, curious as to how my roommates got to stand in the middle of my room. It doesn't budge.

Something inside me breaks. This door is…real. There's actually a door just standing, by itself, in the middle of my room…OHMYGODWHATTHELL? I stumble backwards as my heart begins to race again. This is impossible. Totally impossible! And yet here it is, I can see it with my own eyes. What the hell is going on?

And now that I've accepted that the door is real…I want to know what's on the other side. 'This is a bad idea!' part of me screams. 'But I want to know what's on the other side,' another part of me moans. For a long moment my cautious and curious sides war against each other. But the curious side of me wins out in the end like it always does. Sometimes being a science major sucks!

Swallowing hard, I step forward again and reach out a trembling hand towards the doorknob. The world doesn't explode as I grab it so I take that as a good sign and turn it. Once the knob is turned the door seems to open of its own volition and I let it go.

When the salty air hits me the only thing I feel is shock. A breeze ruffles my hair, the sound of seagull's cries carried on it. If a door in the middle of my room is impossible I don't know how to even begin to explain this. Slowly, not even believing what I'm seeing, I step up to the doorway. Stretched out below me forever is dark blue water, above is light blue sky with white, fluffy clouds. Inside the door in the middle of my room is the ocean.

Suddenly I feel lightheaded and fall against the doorframe for support. This is…this is… I don't have any words to describe how ridiculous this is. Maybe I really am dreaming. I'm about to shut the door and head to bed and hope that I'm not this delirious in the morning when something catches my eye. On the surface of the water far below me is something brown and white. There goes my damn curiosity again. Leaning forwards a bit I squint to get a better view. It looks like a…ship? With sails? That can't be right can it? I lean forward some more trying to get a better view when I feel myself start to fall.

I scrabble wildly at the doorframe searching for something, anything, which will keep me from falling. As my stomach begins to fly up into the area around my throat I realize I'm too late- I'm definitely falling now. I squeeze my eyes shut as tightly as I can but just as I open my mouth to scream my feet collide solidly with something that feels very much like a floor. I stand absolutely frozen for a second, waiting for the fall to continue, but it doesn't. But whatever I'm standing on definitely isn't still.

I snap my eye open and gasp. The horizon gently sways before me as the ship beneath my feet rolls along the waves. _THE SHIP!_ Fighting another mental break down I spin around wildly, trying to decide if everything I'm seeing is real. Upwards and too my right is another deck, the ship's wheel just visible. Too my left the deck gently slopes downwards before sloping up again towards the bow. A large single mast stands in the middle of the ship, a complicated mass of sail and rigging swaying gently above me in the sea breeze.

Feeling a bit woozy again- and perhaps a little seasick- I stumble forwards to the rail and lean over it, staring at the sea. This can't be real…it just can't. And yet all my senses are telling me that I'm _definitely_ on a ship that is _definitely _sailing in the middle of the ocean. An odd popping noise echoes around me and I jerk my head up and to both sides, searching for the source of the noise. I hear the whistling sound of something moving quickly through the air and turn my eyes forward. Squinting hard I see something black and round hurtling through the air towards me.

I don't know what it is but something tells me not just to duck but to _hit the deck._ And so I do, throwing myself flat on the deck of the ship just in time as whatever it is slams into the rail of the ship above me with an almighty crash. I'm showered with wood splinters as the thing crashes through the other rail and into the ocean with a tremendous splash. Shaking I prop myself up to look at the destroyed rails above and behind me.

"Was that a freaking cannonball?"

"Sure was," a man answers me in a heavy English accent. "What do you think this is anyways? A pleasure cruise?"

With a gasp I whip around to look over my other shoulder. An extremely attractive man with dirty blonde hair, bright green eyes, and the thickest eyebrows I've ever seen is grinning saucily down at me. He's dressed in a bright red shirt, brown breeches, and worn, knee-high black boots. A bright blue scarf is wrapped around his head underneath his bangs. A short, curved sword hangs from a matching sash around his waist and the grip of a very old looking gun is visible in its holster as it hangs from a thick leather belt on his other hip. He has several gold earrings in each ear, a multitude of thick gold and silver bangles on each arm, and is wearing more necklaces than I can count.

"I…I…" Words fail me and his grin widens.

Suddenly there is another popping noise like the one I heard earlier. The man's head snaps up, his grin never faltering. "Uh oh. Looks like another one."

"Another wha-?" I begin, but my voice is cut off as the man swings me up into his arms like I weigh nothing at all. He easily leaps up the steps leading to the upper deck holding me bridal style. As soon as his feet touch the upper deck there is another almighty crash and the area of the deck where we were just standing is shattered by another cannonball.

The man sets me on my feet and strides to the edge of the stairs. "What are all you lazy seadogs doing?" His shout is practically a roar. "Trim the sails! Fix the rigging! Roll out the guns and prepare to fire!" The deck is suddenly alive with activity as men in various other kinds of colorful clothing hastily carry out their captain's- cause it's pretty obvious that the guy who saved me from the cannonball is the captain of this ship- bidding. The captain strides back towards me where I stand by the wheel and grabs a hold of it, spinning it hard to the right.

With the creak of wood and sail the ship slowly begins to turn. As it does so it's broadside begins to line up with another ship that is sailing nearby. In comparison to the one I'm on the other ship is massive, with four huge, square sails. The flag flying from its tallest mast is red and gold and looks a lot like the Spanish flag.

"We're ready for the first volley captain!" The yell from the lower deck draws my attention. Another man stands there, looking eagerly up to the man beside me.

The captain grins widely, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Good. Tell all the gunners to set them at forty-five degrees!"

"Aye-aye sir!" the man shouts back. He then disappears into a trap door in the middle of the deck, but I can hear him yelling from down below.

The captain turns to look at the other ship, his expression eager, and I get a funny sinking feeling in my stomach.

"We're ready sir!" the same man has popped his head up through the hatch.

"Alright then! Ready!" the captain roars. The other man conveys his orders below again. "Fire!"

I slap my hands over my ears and squeeze my eyes shut at the sound of the guns going off. Canon fire is a hell of a lot louder when you're right on top of it. There is a roar of cheering from below the deck and I look up at the other ship in time to see two of the cannonballs strike it, the rest falling short into the sea.

"Fire at will!" the captain calls to his men with a flourish of his arm. There is more cheering from the other men and the canons go off again, continuing the bombardment.

I watch, horrified, as the cannonballs fly through the air. Most of them miss, but I wince every time one hits, knowing how terrifying it is. Finally I can't take it anymore. "Why the hell are you firing at that other ship anyways?" I turn and yell at the captain.

He shoots me a funny look before replying. "Because we're after all the gold and silver they've got, of course!"

"Why?"

The captain frowns and steps right up in front of me, his face inches from mine. My heart does a funny little flip with him so close and I stumble back a couple steps. "You're an odd wench aren't you? I figure you must have been drunk when you snuck on board, but you're not still drunk now are you?"

"Of course not!" I cry indignantly. "Just tell me what the hell you're doing!"

The captain laughs. "We're pirates, wench! Pirates!" He motions towards the mast and up towards the top I finally notice it. The black flag of the Jolly Roger, white skull and cross bones and all flapping in the breeze.

"Pirates," I say weakly, fighting the urge to faint.

"That's right! Though the queen prefers to call us privateers," he replies with a wicked grin.

"So you're pirates," I say dazed. "And that's a Spanish ship that you're robbing."

The captain's grin turns roguish. "You're a smart wench aren't you?"

His repeated use of the demeaning term snaps me back to my senses. "Yes I'm smart," I reply icily. "But I'm not a wench."

"You're not?" the captain replies slightly surprised. "You didn't sneak aboard at our last port call?" My only answer is to glare. His expression suddenly turns completely salacious. He steps into my space again, but I can't back up anymore as my back is already against the rail. "That's too bad," he breathes huskily into my ear. As much as I want to deny it, it sends pleasant shivers down my spine. "I like wenches like you." His eyes then travel downwards, examining my body lustily.

I have to fight the urge to cover myself with my hands as I'm dressed only in a tank top in shorts. It's not my fault really. It's hot in August and the house I live in doesn't have air conditioning. He reaches up to grab…something…but I push him away hard enough to make him stumble back a couple steps. "Don't touch me!" I hiss angrily at him. He doesn't look discouraged though. In fact, if anything, he looks even more excited.

A sudden explosion from the other ship is what saves me. A massive column of smoke rises from the middle of it

\, flames licking it's edges and beginning to spread.

The captain lets out a loud whoop that his men, now filling the main deck, return. "Good job men! We've hit their powder!" My presence apparently forgotten, the captain jumps back over to the wheel and spins it hard again. The ship creaks into a sharp turn forcing me to grab the rail to keep from going over the side. When I'm certain I can stand again I look up to see our ship pointed straight at the other one.

"Wh-what are you doing?" I squeak fearfully as we plow through the water towards the other ship. This thing doesn't have that tight of a turning radius does it? We're going to hit it if we don't turn soon!

The captain grins wickedly. "Boarding."

Suddenly he turns the wheel in the opposite direction, the ships sudden movement sending me stumbling to the opposite rail. I lean over it, gripping it tight, and see nothing but water below me. I'm not gonna hurl…I'm not gonna hurl. The sound of more cannon fire and men shouting draws my attention and I see that the ship I'm on has drawn up next to the other one. The captain's men are throwing ropes across to it and lowering boards to cover the distance while the sailors on the other ship fire muskets at them. Both ships are firing their canons wildly, the wood beneath my feet shaking from the explosions.

The pirates begin to scramble across to the other ship, either engaging the Spanish sailors in battle or disappearing into the smoke and fire, undoubtedly to look for treasure to steal. The captain is dramatic, climbing halfway up the rigging of his ship and then swinging across to the Spanish one. He is immediately met by another handsome man wearing a fancy looking uniform, medals gleaming on his chest.

"Britain, you bastard," the Spanish man growls in heavily accented in English. He draws a sword.

"It's always good to you again Spain," the captain mocks.

The Spanish captain's face contorts in rage and he charges. "I'll kill you this time!" The captain draws his own sword and their blades meet with a clear ringing sound. They quickly disappear into the smoke and chaos on the deck of the Spanish ship, fighting the entire time.

Watching the fighting is awful. There is blood everywhere, men screaming as they are dealt final blows. The smoke grows thick as the fire spreads, making my eyes water and my throat burn. Finally I turn away, coughing violently into my hand, unable to watch anymore. This is the most horrible thing I've ever seen. I can't believe I ever thought pirates were cool.

"Yes, I believe that's quite enough of that isn't it," a man says, distaste clear in his tone.

I start, recognizing the voice instantly as the captain's. Whirling around I see the captain, except he is now dressed in a green military uniform and wearing an expression of disgust as he watches the fight aboard the other ship.

"You!" I gasp. "But! You were!" I glance helplessly at the other ship before turning back to the man in front of me. He's definitely the captain, but how can he possibly be in two places at once? Not that I should be surprised at the impossible happening after what has just happened to me.

"Yes that's me," the man in front of me says. "I'm afraid I was a bit of a scallywag when I was young…" As he trails off I am irritated to see that he doesn't look apologetic. If anything I'd say his expression is nostalgic, a faraway look in his eyes.

"So who the hell are you anyways?" I snap at him when he doesn't say anything else.

The man's attention snaps back to me and he gives me a sheepish look. "Don't worry I'll explain everything. But perhaps you'd like to get out of here first?" Without waiting for my answer- not like I would have said 'no' anyways- he turns away from me and reaches a hand out in the empty air. A door abruptly appears in front of him as if it had been there all along and he turns the knob. I stare at him and the door in disbelief. "After you, my lady," he says politely, offering me a deep bow as he pushes the door open.

This is insane. Completely insane. But is it anymore insane then being on a pirate ship that's making a raid? Maybe, but at this point I will take the unknown behind the door rather than stay and watch the hell behind me. Without any more hesitation I stride through the door. And then promptly freeze in shock. Drawing in a sharp breath I manage to ask, "Where the hell are we?"

"Yes, I'm sorry this is so sudden. Let me introduce myself properly first," the man says, as he closes the door behind him. "I am Great Britain. And _this_ is the World Conference!"

**Author's Note**

I hoped you liked it! I don't really have any idea where this story is going or if I'm going to continue it or not. I just had this awesome idea (which I'm totally in love with by the way) and had to write it down and then I figured I might as well post it. I guess the continuation of this story will be based on how well this idea sticks around in my head and its reception.

Relating to the disclaimer it's the whole 'world nations inside a globe' that I'm borrowing from Atama Ga Kuru Teru. However, to the best of my knowledge, the 'going into the nation's histories' (which is what Jordan did) is my own original idea. That's pretty much the basis for my story so we'll see how it goes. So yea. Like I've already said (this is what the third time?) I absolutely love it.

Also I've seen the first two seasons of Hetalia and I'm now working my way through the third (in Japanese), but it's not one of my main fandoms so I'm so sure how well I'm going to do keeping everyone in character and keeping Hetalia's tone. As I said before I really do love this idea though. The other thing I'm not sure about is doing any pairings. Originally I wasn't going to do one, but I'm thinking now that a reverse harem thing with Jordan would be kinda fun and I think I'd enjoy the challenge. Anyways if you liked it and want me to write more your feedback about the above issues would be appreciated.

PLEASE REVIEW! Whether you liked this story or not I would really like some feedback. I'm new to this fandom so I want to know how this story fits into it if it does at all. And it's always nice to just have the 'It was awesome!' messages. And if you didn't like it please tell me why.

Thanks for reading!

imagination junkie


	2. The International Club?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or certain idea's from Atama Ga Kuru Teru's story 'World is Ours', but I do own my characters and this plot.

**Chapter 2: The "International Club"?**

I am standing in an enormous room. Flags from countries all over the world hang from the ceiling. A huge oval table takes up the middle of the room and around the table sit seven more very attractive men who are all staring at me with undisguised interest. There is also an empty chair sitting closest to me on the right side of the table. I bet I know who that's for, I think dazedly. It's for Great…Britain…

Something clicks in my brain and I whirl back to the man behind me. "You're _who_ now?"

He blinks at me in surprise. "Well…I'm…" he suddenly seems flustered.

"He's Great Britain. He just said that."

I stiffen at hearing the man's name confirmed. I turn slowly to face a man with slicked-back blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He is scowling reproachfully at me, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He spoke with an accent too. Very thick and very German.

"Great Britain?" I ask, a headache starting as I struggle to make sense of everything. "Like the country?"

"Exactly," the German man huffs.

A giggle bubbles up in my throat. I slap my hand over my mouth in order to contain it. They _can't_ be serious. Another giggle bubbles up. And then another. And then I'm laughing so hard that I'm doubled over, hands on my knees for support. No one else laughs. They all just stare at me like I'm crazy. Slowly my laughter abates as dread grows somewhere in the area of my stomach. "Oh my god. You're serious."

I turn back to- dare I think it- Great Britain. He gives me a sheepish smile. "It's true. I'm the nation of Great Britain."

"You don't say," I murmur as the edges of my vision start to go black. I then proceed to collapse in a stress-induced faint.

…

"Damn it you stupid frog! Don't even think about doing that!" That's definitely…Great Britain.

"Oh come now, it's just mouth-to-mouth. I'm trying to help!" And a sleazy sounding French guy.

"That's the problem, damn it! She doesn't need _your_ help!" Britain sounds pissed.

"IDIOTS! GIVE THE FRAULINE SOME SPACE!" I wince slightly at the sound of the German man's yell, but I'm grateful as the noise above me quiets and moves away.

My eyelids flutter open and I find myself staring at the ceiling and the flags. Britain's face appears above me first and the faces of the rest of the men follow. "Oh good you're awake," Britain says, relieved. "How do you feel?"

"I've been better," I groan.

"Yes well I suppose this is rather a lot to take in at one time," Britain tells me sympathetically.

A man with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and stubble on his chin blows me a kiss over Britain's shoulder. Suitably freaked out I sit up abruptly sending most of the men jumping back. "I'd like an explanation for all of this now," I say, scowling at Britain.

"No problem dude!" Another blonde haired, blue-eyed man suddenly jumps into my face causing me to flinch back. This one is wearing glasses. "I'm America, the hero!"

"Oh! Oh! And I'm Italy!" America draws back allowing me to see a brown haired, brown eyed man jumping up and down and waving his hand around in the air. An enormous curl extends from his bangs and bounces along with him.

"Germany," the slicked-back blonde from before grunts.

"I am Japan. It is nice to meet you," a short Asian man with short black hair says, bowing to me.

"And I am China," the taller Asian man beside him says. He sports a ponytail.

"I'm France," the longhaired blonde practically coos, winking flirtatiously at me.

"And I am Russia," the tallest man says. His hair is an ashy blonde color and he's got bright purple eyes. Smiling innocently he continues. "Would you like to become one with me?"

All the other men…countries?...pale at Russia's words. "Um…no?" I manage to say.

"That's ok," Russia replies, his smile never faltering. "You'll all be one with me one day."

There is complete and total silence for one very long moment. "O...k…then…" I stare up at all the men as they look down at me. This is just so…bizarre. Everything that's happened to me today is bizarre. I just can't get my head around it. "So that's it? You're named after where you're from or something?"

The atmosphere in the room droops suddenly as if they're all disappointed that I don't get it. "No," Germany says sharply. He definitely seems like the impatient type. "It's as Britain said before. We are our nations. I _am_ Germany."

"That doesn't make any sense!" I cry, my voice rising. Dear god I think I'm gonna pass out again. "Countries _aren't _people!"

"We aren't people, per se," Briatin explains kindly. "We're the human personifications of our countries."

I stare at the rest of them completely speechless. Most of them smile back encouragingly. Except for German who continues to scowl at me like I'm an idiot and Russia who hasn't stopped smiling since I showed up here. "So…" I begin, fighting the desire to rub my temples in order to ease my returning headache. "Say for argument's sake that everything you've told me is true (interest a derisive snort from Germany)…How exactly does that work?"

All the countries exchange uneasy glances. Dear god I'm even thinking that's what they are now. Did someone slip something into my food? "Well…" Britain begins, uncomfortable. "That's complicated. I mean we're not human, but we're not…uh…well…" Britain looks to the others clearly asking for help.

"As Britain said it's complicated," China says as he steps forward. "We are the human personifications of countries. Everything that our countries are- the history, the culture, the national spirit of the people- we are too."

"Ok…" Because that makes perfect sense. "And how does _that_ work?"

"That's really not important, is it?" Britain asks, waving his hands about nervously. "Just say it's magic. Rights guys?" Britain turns towards the others imploringly. They're all looking away, refusing to make eye contact with him. America begins to whistle an aimless little tune. One of Britain's thick eyebrow's twitches irritably. "_Come on guys!_"

Britain begins to berate the other countries about magic being real. I definitely have a full-on migraine now. All of this is completely ridiculous. I mean it's getting too farfetched to even be a dream. But after being on that pirate ship- and there really is no way for me to deny that I _was_ there- is having personified forms of world countries living inside the globe I just bought really that out there? …I'm pretty sure I'm going crazy now.

"Anyways," I say loudly, interrupting Britain's tirade. "If you are all countries then where the hell are we?" I motion to the room at large.

"We're at the World Conference dude!" America exclaims. Apparently that's his normal mode of speaking. "We meet here to hang out and solve world problems and stuff!"

"Solve world problems?" I ask incredulously. "That hasn't been working to well recently has it? Or ever?"

America looks put out. "Well…" he replies, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

"Please do not think too badly of us. We do what we can, but we are not in charge of our countries or our people so the best we can do is make recommendations." Japan bows to me again once he stops speaking.

Well crap. Now I feel kind of bad. If what they're saying really is true then I guess being a country and trying to solve the world's problems probably isn't as easy as saying it. Argh…all of this is making my head hurt. "I guess that makes sense. Sorry for jumping down your throats about it," I say lowly. They seem to have forgiven me because the looks I'm getting are encouraging now. "But why is something like that inside a globe?"

"The World Conference was placed inside that globe a while ago. Around 200 years now I'd say. It was done to make our history more accessible to those who want to learn it," Britain replies.

"That's not important!" American shouts, pushing Britain roughly to the side as he jumps in front of me. Britain shoots him a nasty look. "What's important is that all you have to do is spin the globe and say where you want to go and we can show you our history! It's freaking awesome isn't it!"

"So I was really in your history?" I ask Britain.

Britain nods. "It's rather imprecise though I'm afraid. It's really better if you come here first and ask one of us to show you."

"So you guys really can help me with my history class?" There is a chorus of affirmatives.

"Totally dude!" America shouts, giving me a thumbs up. "You'll have the best history grade ever!"

Everything that's just happened seems to be taking its toll on me. I suddenly feel completely exhausted. I just want to go back to my room, go to sleep, and wake up and find that all of this has been a dream. "Ok. I just have one more question." They all look at me expectantly. "If this is the world conference then why are there only eight of you?"

"The rest of the world's countries are here," Britain assures me. "I'm sure you'll get the opportunity to meet them all at one point or another."

I sigh. I'm too tired to try and understand this anymore right now. "Ok. I won't worry about it then." I begin to push myself into a standing position, but Italy suddenly interrupts.

"Wait, wait! We haven't heard your name yet!"

"Jordan Curren," I blurt, surprised.

"Awww! That's a nice name!" Italy replies cheerily.

Watching him warily I begin to stand again. "Here! Let the hero help you up!" America exclaims suddenly, offering me a hand.

I stare at it hesitantly for a moment. I can't really get into to trouble by accepting his help can I? I mean I am American after all. So I take it. America jerks hard on my hand, my shoulder nearly popping out if its socket, and essentially throws me over his shoulder. With a scream I crash into France, both of us falling to the floor with me sprawled on top of him.

"I'm so sorry!" I say as I hurriedly get off him, my face burning with embarrassment.

France smiles back at me in a way he probably thinks is seductive. "That's quite all right chérie. I would have been perfectly fine staying like that," he finishes, winking.

Ew. Like just ew. Suddenly feeling sick I turn away from the still smirking France.

"Whoops! Sorry dude!" America laughs, not sounding in the least bit remorseful.

"Can I just go back to my room now?" I ask through gritted teeth. I'm starting to reach my breaking point.

"Of course," Britain replies, stepping forward and shoving America away in the process.

Another one of those 'magic' doors appears behind me. Gratefully I turn and open it seeing the safety and the sanity of my room beyond it. Without a backward glance I step through with eyes only for my bed. As the door swings shut behind me I hear a chorus of goodbyes. And then it's just me alone my room. The insanity that my life has been for the past hour- and it has only been an hour according to my alarm clock- suddenly seems long ago and far away. I walk over to my bed and collapse on top of it, my only thought being to sleep until morning.

…

My alarm clock goes off the next morning and I roll towards it, randomly slapping the top of my bedside table as I search for it while I'm half awake. Finally I hit it, managing to knock the clock off the table in the process. Grumbling about stupid clocks and having to get up early to go to stupid 100 level classes I stand and stretch. And that's when I catch sight of the globe sitting beyond the history book on my desk. Instantly my mind goes to what happened last night. Or what I think happened last night. Did it all really happen? I'm honestly not sure anymore.

I walk over to the desk and squat down in front of it to get a better look at the globe. It looks harmless enough just sitting there. Hesitantly I poke it. It wobbles a bit on its stand but nothing else happens. I guess it really was just dream. I mean I don't have any proof that it did happen…but I don't have any proof besides my own misgivings that it didn't happen either. Sighing I turn around and sit down, my back leaning against the desk. This is all Kaylie's fault, I decide. If she hadn't dragged me to that stupid shady bookstore yesterday I wouldn't be questioning my sanity right now.

I happen to glance over at where my alarm clock is still lying on the floor. "Shit!" I gasp scrambling to my feet. I've only got thirty minutes to get ready and walk to class. Muttering curses under my breath I snatch the history book off my desk and stuff it into my backpack along with the other book I'll need today. I then dash out of my room to the bathroom and after discarding my clothes from last night- which I pretend don't smell like the ocean- I shower as fast as I can, running back to my room in just a towel. Racing to my closet, I yank the door open and start digging through piles of half-folded clothing looking for something to wear. Finally I drag a T-shirt and a pair of shorts out and put them on.

I race out of my room into the bathroom again. God I look awful. I'm not gorgeous or anything usually, but I look extra crappy today. My skin tone borders on olive and I've got a spray of freckles across my nose and cheeks. My eyes are dark brown and today they've got circles under them. My hair is thick, black, and falls roughly to my shoulders and, as usual, it's a mess. I'm pretty tall actually and my build tends towards athletic, though I've gotten a bit soft around the middle during college. Sighing at the state of my appearance I pull my hair back into a short ponytail and throw some eyeliner and mascara on. I don't look great, but it's going to half to do for now.

I run back to my room, grab my backpack, and slip a pair of flip-flops on. I pause in the kitchen to grab a pack of pop tarts and then I'm out the door and on my way to my first class of my senior year in college. The 8 o'clock world history class. This year is going to be sooo much fun.

…

By the time I get home again it's a little after noon and I'm already finished with classes for the day. Normally I wouldn't even have class until the afternoon because I like to sleep in, but since I've got the history class at eight I signed up for a 10 o'clock calculus class so I don't have to run back to campus later in the day. As I open the door to the house my roommates greet me. "Oh look," I respond sarcastically. "The princes charming are awake."

"Hey Jordan, that's not fair," Aaron mumbles from around the sandwich in his mouth. He's sitting on the couch, Comedy Central blaring on the TV. "It's not our fault you signed up for that early class." Aaron's one of the smartest guys I know. I've known him since high school. He's got brown hair, blue eyes, and glasses. He's in the university's marching band, but he can play pretty much any instrument he lays his hands on.

"Don't worry about it Aaron," Danny says, smirking, as he appears in the entrance to the kitchen. "Jordan's just jealous that she doesn't get to sleep in every day anymore." I stick my tongue out at him in retaliation. Danny is too handsome for his own good with dirty blonde hair and hazel eyes. Aaron and I met him in our freshman year of college. He can be a jerk when he wants to be, but he's actually a pretty solid friend once you get to know him. He's in one of the big fraternities so he isn't around a lot of the time because he's got to do stuff with them. He says that he doesn't live in the frat house because he's happier without the drama, but Aaron and I have decided it's because they wouldn't let him stay there.

"You're heading out then?" I ask Danny.

"Yea," he says, pausing next to me in the doorway. "My first class of the day. It's early too so I can empathize with you." He pats me sympathetically on the shoulder.

"Bastard," I growl, swatting his hand away.

He simply laughs at me in response as he steps out the door. "See you guys later!" I slam the door behind him and move away, cursing under my breath.

Aaron snorts loudly into his sandwich and I stop to glare at him. "Something funny Aaron?"

"TV," he replies meekly, refusing to make eye contact.

"TV my ass…" I head into the kitchen to make my own lunch. My stomach is howling at me by now after my measly pop tart breakfast.

The kitchen is probably the largest room in the house. It's on the backside of the building, opposite the front door, which opens into the family room that we use as our main room. The TV, the couch, and a beanbag chair are on the left side of the family room and our dining table and a few bookshelves are on the right. My bedroom and the downstairs bathroom that I use are off to the left behind the couch. Actually by bedroom is technically the formal living room but the guy who owns the place walled it off so he could rent it out as a three-bedroom house. Aaron and Danny have the two upstairs bedrooms and share the bathroom. I pretty much never go up there. We've also got a front porch and a decent sized backyard with a patio and the house isn't too long of a walk from campus. It's a pretty good set up considering what we're paying for it. Minus the lack of air conditioning.

After heating up some pizza from last night I sit on the couch next to Aaron and attack it with a vengeance. We hang out for a while just talking and watching TV until he heads upstairs to start getting his stuff together to leave for band practice. I'm kind of disappointed to see him go. The only thing I've got left to do now is start my homework. After leaving my dishes in the kitchen sink I go back into my room and shut the door behind me. I dump the contents of my backpack on my bed I find that I am left with two choices: do my calculus homework first or my history homework. My calculus homework is a lot harder, but I would actually prefer doing it. The history homework is easy. But it's so stupid that we're going to have to write a 2-3 page paper every week. I feel sorry for the poor TAs who are going to have to grade them.

With a heavy sigh I grab my history book. I might as well get this over with. I sit down at my desk and flip the book open to read the chapter that I'll need. Once I'm done about an hour later- textbooks are dry reading- I grab my laptop and set work.

I have just settled into a good typing rhythm when a voice interrupts me. "You spelled 'coliseum' wrong."

My hands jerk so violently in my surprise that it leaves a line of gibberish on the page. Heart pounding I whirl around to see Britain standing behind me, a look of dismay on his face. There goes my "world nations in tiny globe is a dream" theory. I really can't deny his existence when I'm completely awake and he's still standing right in front of me. It'd be stupid to keep trying to deny it when I keep getting beat over the head with the reality of it. "What the hell are you doing here?" I hiss angrily at him.

"You had your first history class today right? I wanted to find out how it went."

"That's not what I meant! How are you _here_? _In my room_?"

Britain shrugs like it's no big deal. "You didn't think we were restricted to staying inside the globe did you? We can come and go as we please using the globe or your location as an entry point now that you're using it. And 'coliseum' is still spelled wrong."

"I know it's spelled wrong! That's what the red, squiggly line is for!" I hiss louder, jabbing my finger at the computer screen. "And you didn't think this was important enough to tell me last night? What if someone sees you?"

Britain frowns a bit at me. "It's really not that big of a deal. And I do wish you'd change the spelling of that word. It makes me cringe to think about what you Americans have done to the English language."

"Hey Britain! Quit criticizing my citizens!" Another door pops into existence just like it did last night. And none other than America bursts through it. The door swings shut behind him and it's gone like it was never there. I sit there staring dumbly at where it was as Britain and America begin to argue.

"America," Britain says, exhaling heavily through his nose. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the hero! So I'm here to save my citizen from you bothering her!"

"It's really got nothing to do with you."

"Of course it does! You're always going on and on about what Americans have done to the English language, but you're really just jealous that the British can't come up with awesome new words like Americans can!"

"Wh-? Jealous? Don't be ridiculous America! Your people have completely bastardized our language!"

"No we haven't! We've made it better!"

"Would you two just shut up!" I shout. They both turn to stare at me startled. "Does it really matter that British and American English are different? I mean they're two different countries so why wouldn't they have different versions of the same language?" They both stare at me dumbstruck as if they'd never thought of that before. "And does it really matter for 'coliseum' anyways? Isn't it an Italian word?" I finish, motioning towards my computer screen.

Britain frowns in thought, but America's attention immediately shifts. It kind of depresses me that my country seems to suffer from ADD. "Oh what're you writing about? Ancient Rome huh? I bet Italy can help with this!" And before I can stop him American moves a couple strides away from my desk, reaches out into the empty air, and opens another door. "Hey Italy!" he shouts inside it. I can hear the faint echoes of his voice. "Come out here for a second!" It is quiet for one long moment and then…the sounds of a stampede. Italy suddenly jumps through the door and is quickly followed by Germany, Japan, China, France, and Russia. The door closes and disappears.

"What do you need America?" Italy asks him, smiling.

"Jordan is working on her history homework. I think you can help dude."

Italy's smile becomes blinding as he turns to me. "I can?" he asks excitedly like it's the thing he wants most in the world.

All I can do is gape open-mouthed at all of them. "Why did _all_ of you come?"

"Well America called me!" Italy says proudly.

"Someone needs to keep an eye on Italy," Germany grumbles.

"There is something that I need to talk to Germany about," Japan explains politely.

"And I need to talk to Japan!" China adds.

France and Russia exchange glances. "We wanted to come too, chérie," France shrugs.

Rather than slapping my hand against my forehead I opt to bang my head against my desk. "This can't be happening to me…" I groan.

"Ve, ve!" Italy suddenly exclaims, his face right next to mine. "So I can help you right?"

"Sure," I say, resigned. "This stupid homework is supposed to be about ancient Rome."

"Oh Grandpa Rome! I can tell you all about him!"

I frown at Italy feeling a bit perplexed. "Tell me? Can't you just show me?"

"Nope!" Italy replies cheerfully.

"Our histories are like human memories Jordan-san. We can only show you our histories from our point of view since our existence as a nation. Italy did not exist as a nation during the Roman empire so he has no memories to show you," Japan clarifies.

"Really?" I ask, turning to look at Italy again.

"Uh huh! But I remember Grandpa Rome. He used to tell me lots of stories, so I think I can still help!"

I can't help but feel slightly put out. All my stressing over whether this whole thing was real or not and now that I know it's real and I actually need the countries' help I can't even go into one of their memories. "Fire away then Italy," I sigh.

Italy begins to talk. And talk. _And talk_. Just in case you didn't know Italy's a bit of an airhead. So when he was telling me stories about his Grandpa Rome- I'm still not sure exactly how that relationship works- it took all of my concentration to make sense of everything he was saying. Therefore I didn't notice Britain and France's fight until things were getting really loud.

"I said take it back you bloody frog!"

"Ha! Never!"

"Damn you!"

And then Britain and France are rolling on the ground trying to gouge each other's eyes out while screaming profanities at each other.

"What the hell?" I half-shout as I stand up. How the hell am I going to break them apart?

"Don't worry, they do this all the time!" Italy tells me.

"Huh?"

"Look it up in your history book," Germany replies gruffly from behind Italy. "Britain und France hate each other. They always have."

I glance at my history book before turning back towards the two nations on the ground. Yea I'm pretty sure I don't need to look that one up. Their hate is pretty freaking obvious. There is a loud knock on the door and everyone abruptly stops and shuts up, surprised. Britain and France are comically frozen with France's arm around Britain's neck, choking him, and Britain's fingers inches from France's eyes. "Hey Jordan? Is everything ok in there?" Aaron asks uncertainly.

"Y-yea! It's fine!" I answer, my voice a bit squeakier than normal. Please don't open the door, please don't open the door!

Unfortunately for me Aaron does indeed decide to push the door open, peeking his head around it to see what the hell is going on in my room. Shock and confusion flash across his face. "What the hell is going on in here?" he asks in amazement.

Ok Jordan, time to think fast! "They're uh…foreign exchange students! From the International Club! I had to join because of my history class. They're helping me with my homework. This is one of my roommates Aaron, everyone…"

"Did they climb in your window or something?" Aaron asks mystified.

"Something like that…" I mutter under my breath. Then, louder, "No they were just a lot _quieter_ when they got here." My glare is directed at Britain and France who are still on the floor.

"Hi…" Aaron says uncertainly. Britain and France hurriedly pick themselves up and dust themselves off to join in the chorus of 'hellos' that the nations are giving to Aaron. "It's nice to meet you all," Aaron adds. The 'I think' on the end goes unsaid.

"It's nice to meet you too!" Italy suddenly exclaims, stepping forward. "I'm Ita-!" Italy never gets to finish his introduction as my history book imbeds itself into the back of his. He goes down, hard. I feel no remorse.

"He meant he's _from_ Italy! He's still working on his English!" I then proceed to laugh awkwardly.

"Ok then…" Aaron blinks, surprised, and then looks back to at me bemused. "Anyways I'm heading out to practice. You guys…have fun."

"Yea, thanks Aaron!" I call as cheerily as I can. Aaron shuts the door behind him and all the nations, minus Italy who hasn't moved from the floor, turn to stare at me. I collapse back into my desk chair with a sigh.

Germany bends down and grabs my book in one hand and Italy's arm in the other, quickly heaving the other nation to his feet. "That hurt," Italy sniffles, looking pitiful. I'm pretty sure there are tears in the corners of his eyes.

"You didn't have to throw the book at him," Germany chastises me as he sets the book back on my desk.

"He was going to tell Aaron who he was!" I reply defensively. "Won't the world implode or something if it get's out that you guys are human personifications of your countries?"

"But Americans are…how you say…stupid, da?" Russia says suddenly. "Would anyone really believe it if they found out?"

"Hey! You can't call Americans stupid!"

As America begins to shout at Russia I consider his words. I hate to say it but…Russia's probably right. There are a lot of people who aren't that smart. And probably no one would believe me even if I told them that the men surrounding me are actually countries. I still barely believe it myself. "I guess your right Russia." Russia smiles at me, clearly pleased with himself.

"No! Jordan!" American laments overdramatically. "You can't agree with him!"

Ignoring America I look back at Italy as Germany scowls at me. "I'm sorry I threw that book at you," I tell Italy.

Italy sniffs once and then tilts his head, considering me. He then holds his arms out like he's expecting a hug. "A hug will make it all better, ve?"

I hesitate for a moment, as this doesn't seem entirely appropriate. But Italy just keeps giving me a faintly expectant smile. Finally, holding in my sigh, I reach out and hug him. Italy instantly crushes me against him so tightly I can't breathe. "Italy…!" I manage to gasp.

Italy releases me and his normal beaming smile has returned. "See! All better!"

I lean away from him trying to catch my breath. My face feels unnaturally hot. As uncomfortable as that hug was it's impossible to deny that I enjoyed the feeling of Italy's surprisingly firm torso against mine. And he smelled awfully good too. A mixture of sun, sea, and tomato sauce.

"Anyways," I say, turning back to my computer in order to hide my slight blush. "I think I got everything I needed. You guys can go back now."

"You said that was only one of your roommates right?" Britain asks thoughtfully.

"Yea. The other one's name is Danny." And boy am I glad he isn't here right now. I shudder to think what would have happened if it'd been him instead of Aaron.

"Danny?" Britain asks sounding shocked. "You're roommates aren't both men are they?"

"Yea. So?"

"That's improper!"

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about him chérie," France tells me soothingly. "He's just a prude."

"I am not! A young lady living with two unrelated males is completely indecent!"

"Dude, chill out," America butts in. "People do that all the time here."

"And that's exactly what's wrong with Americans!"

"Dude! You crossed a line with that one!"

"Seriously Britain calm down!" I interrupt sharply. He turns to look at me, startled. "Aaron's been dating the same girl since high school. And I've already had a talk with Danny about that kind of stuff. It's not a big deal."

"But…but…" Britain protests helplessly.

"As I said before," I reply briskly. "I think I've got everything I needed so you all can _leave_ now. But if you guys come back…because you probably will," I add in undertone. Then, louder again, "Could you wear some normal clothes? You guys seriously look like you just came out of World War II or something."

All the countries look down, confused, at their clothing. They're all wearing what appears to be a military uniform of one form or another. "No problem!" Italy exclaims. "We can do that! And call us if you need us again! We're happy to help anytime!" The door reappears and they head through it, most of them waving or saying to goodbye. A couple are still staring ponderingly at their clothes as if they've never properly seen them before. The door closes and disappears and I'm finally alone again.

I lay my head down on my desk feeling as exhausted as I did last night. This is going to be one long and interesting semester. I wonder vaguely if it's abnormal to wish that your life could be boring instead of exciting.

**Author's Note**

All right! Second chapter! Whoo! I know it hasn't been that long, but this chapter and the first one both kind of serve as introductions so I wanted to get this one out fairly quickly. Unfortunately my update speed is going to slow down now because I've got two other stories I'm working on along with this one and I'm currently in this training program thing so I don't have a huge amount of free time in which to write.

Anyways I sure hope you enjoyed it! And that I kept everyone in character…managing so many characters at one time is pretty rough. Tons more respect for the authors who do it all the time. I also borrowed something else from Atama Ga Kuru Teru in this chapter in that the countries can come out of the globe. And they will be interacting with Jordan's friends and other people a lot in the coming chapters. I'm planning on kind of jumping between the countries histories and Jordan's life/world/whatever you want to call it. And I'm sorry if anything I ever write offends anyone. I don't intend it to offend, but I will be making fun of people/nationalities. Probably mostly Americans. But I'm allowed to do that because I'm American.

As for the reverse harem thing- and I may have my terminology wrong- but that means you have one girl with a bunch of guys going after her right? As opposed to a harem which is one guy and a bunch of girls? In any case I meant the first one. I'm planning on using all the main eight countries (if I can figure out a good way to do it) and a few other male countries too. I probably will have countries in here that don't go after Jordan too because I wanted to write them into the story anyways.

Seven reviews for my first chapter? Freaking awesome! I totally feel validated right now. THANK YOU SO MUCH to HannajimaShields, DarkeFlame, Atama Ga Kuru Teru, Sora'struelover, Hiatsu, Stella laLuna, and InsanityAintOptional. Yay! And PLEASE REVIEW after you read this chapter. I've had a less than awesome weekend and reviews would totally make me feel better. Last night I pretty much drowned my sorrows in a greasy Five Guys hamburger. EAT YOUR HEART OUT AMERICA! (And yes I admitted that almost solely for the purpose of saying that. LOL. But seriously my weekend sucked.)

Thanks for reading!

imagination junkie


	3. Britain is Indiana Jones?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or certain idea's from Atama Ga Kuru Teru's story 'World is Ours', but I do own my characters and this plot.

**Chapter 3: Britain is Indiana Jones?**

"Hey Italy! Come here for a second!"

"What is it America?"

"Dude you totally have to check this out! See you just put your face here and…_Doesn't my voice sound awesome?"_

"Oh wow it does! Ve, I want to try!"

"Go for it dude!"

"_Veeeeeee!"_

"_Ahhhhhh!"_

"_Veeeeee!"_

"_Luke, I am you father. _Ha ha!"

"_PAAAAAAASTAAAAAA!"_

"Would you two knock it off already?"

Italy and America both jerk away from the big box fan sitting on my windowsill looking startled.

"But why?" Italy whines. "It's fun!"

"I'm trying to do homework, damn it. It's distracting," I growl at them.

"Oh come on," America says genially. "Don't tell me you've never done it."

"Sure. When I was like _four._ What the hell are you two doing here anyways? Go home!"

It has only been a couple days since my first trip inside the globe and despite the fact that I don't have any more history homework these two have popped in to "visit"- aka to annoy the crap out of me. Being able to go into their history is pretty cool and everything and I'm pretty sure that it'll end up helping me with my history class, but why do they have to be able to come _out_ of the globe too? Especially when I'm trying to focus on my physics homework?

"But it's boring in there!" Italy protests, his expression pitiful.

"I don't care! I'm busy and you two are distracting me. Go bother Germany or something! Just leave! _Now!_"

Italy and America both stare at me for moment and then exchange glances. They jump to their feet and make a run for the door. But rather than a door to the globe appearing in front of them they head towards my door. To the living room.

My stomach drops way down to the floor as I leap to my feet. "I didn't mean there!" I shout as I lunge towards the two of them. I'm too late though. Laughing wildly America makes it to the door first and throws it open, Italy right behind him as they dash into the living room. I jump through the door too and am completely horrified by what I see. Danny is sitting on the couch watching TV.

He freezes, about to pop a handful of potato chips in his mouth, and glances over his shoulder at the three of us standing frozen behind the couch. I start to feel a little sick as his mouth twists into a perverted grin. "Oh hello. Didn't hear you come in. I take it you two are from the International Club? Jordan's new…friends?" He glances at me mischievously with the last word and I have to fight the desire to punch him.

"Yea! We're her friends!" Italy trills. "I'm Italy!"

"And I'm America dude!" America adds, pointing a thumb at himself. "Nice to meet you!"

"Italy? America?" Danny looks genuinely thrown for a minute.

And of course I take pity on the poor bastard. "They're nicknames," I sigh. This is a lie that I planned out after the countries' first visit a couple days ago. "No one can pronounce anyone's name so everyone is just nicknamed where they're from."

"Then how come he's America?" Danny asks pointing to him.

"He was the first American in the International Club."

"Oh." Danny's curiosity now satisfied, his grin returns. "I'm Danny, one of Jordan's roommates. It's nice to meet you guys. I've been here for a while though. Did you sneak in through the window or something?"

"No! We-!" Italy's reply is cut off as I slap my hand over his mouth.

"Something like that," I answer through gritted teeth. "Not that it's any of your business."

Danny's grin just gets wider. He knows I'm lying of course. Which is only going to make him want to know more. Of all the days for Danny to not be busy why did it have to be today? I was hoping I could avoid having to introduce the nations to him for a while longer. Or, like, never. At least they listened to me and are wearing normal clothes, with Italy in a T-shirt and shorts and America in a T-shirt and jeans. Not that I've noticed how good either of them look in them either. Not at all.

"Dude!" America exclaims suddenly. "Is that an Xbox?"

Danny glances lazily at the black gaming console nestled up next to the TV. "Well, duh."

"Sweet! Do you have Call of Duty?" America is starting to salivate.

Danny's grin becomes that of an eager ten year old. "Course I do, man. You wanna play?"

"Heck yea!" America shouts vaulting the back of the couch and landing next to Danny with a thump.

"Ve! What's Call of Duty?" Italy asks curiously, walking up until he is right behind America.

"Only the most awesome video game ever!" America replies taking the controller that Danny hands him.

"Have fun boys," I mutter as I turn away and head back into my room. Leaving America and Italy alone with Danny is probably not my best idea ever, but I've got homework to do and if I've got the chance to it without the two nations bothering me you sure as hell better believe that I'm going to take advantage of it.

…

It's been about an hour since I chased Italy and America out of my room when the door cracks open and Italy slips inside looking upset. I've finished my physics homework so, feeling a bit more charitable, I put down my history textbook that I've been reading. "What's wrong?" I ask Italy.

Italy turns and shuts the door behind him and then just stares at it for a moment. My only warning is a loud sniffle before he suddenly throws himself at me wailing and crying. "IT WAS AWFUL JORDAN! ITWASAWFUL! THE GAME WAS SCARY WITH ALL THE SHOOTING AND THE BLOOD AND THE DYING! AND THEY LAUGHED AT ME EVERYTIME I SAID THEY SHOULD RUN AWAY! WAAAAAH!"

Completely uncertain about how to stop Italy from soaking through my shirt with his tears I awkwardly pat his back. "There, there…"

Eventually Italy is reduced to sniffles again. Suddenly he goes completely silent and I get an ominous feeling of dread, but before I can extricate myself from his grasp he is hugging me with a death grip around the middle like he did a couple days ago. "Thank you Jordan! I feel so much better now! You're the best friend ever!"

"You're…welcome!" I gasp, silently praying that he will release me so I can breathe again. When he does so I fall over, struggling to catch my breath.

"Ve? You ok?" Italy asks me quizzically.

I wave my hand at him and he seems satisfied. Unfortunately my need to recover isn't just from having the life nearly squeezed out of me. Just like before it was impossible for me not to notice his body pressed against mine in that ridiculous hug. I need a minute to control my blush just as much as to catch my breath. When I finally turn back to Italy I see that he is inspecting my history book from where I left it lying open on the bed.

"I thought you said you didn't have any more history homework, ve?"

"I don't really," I reply. "It's just reading now." I sigh. If only that book wasn't so boring.

Italy's confused expression morphs into his usual one of absent joy. "Oh! What're you reading about?"

"Ancient Egypt. The textbook still manages to make it boring though."

Italy tips his head to the side in thought. "I know! We can go see Britain! He can make Egypt more exciting, I'm sure of it!"

"Britain?" I ask, confused, as Italy stands up.

"Yea! He did lots of digging there! Come on!" Italy then grabs my hand and yanks me off the bed. A door appears before his outstretched arm and he pulls me through it before I have the chance to protest.

Rather than entering into the enormous World Conference room like last time we step out of the doorway into a nondescript hallway. Well relatively nondescript- all the doors that line it are painted in the colors of international flags. Italy begins to drag me down the hallway talking a mile a minute about who knows what because it's impossible to understand his accent when he talks so fast. He also seems completely immune to my attempts to pull my hand out of his grasp. Eventually I give up and follow him without a struggle to stop myself from pulling something.

After what seems like a long of time of walking past the seemingly endless number of doors Italy comes to a halt in front of a door painted with the British flag. Finally releasing my hand his raises his own and knocks. Loudly. "Ve! Britain! Come out here for a minute!"

There is a loud crash from inside the room followed by indistinct cursing. After a moment we hear Britain's stomping footsteps as he approaches the door. "Damn it Italy!" Britain shouts, his voice slightly muffled. "What the hell do you want? I swear if you try to give me that bloody do-it-yourself pasta kit one more time I'll-!" Britain's voice dies abruptly as he opens the door and sees me standing next to Italy. His expression, which had been contorted in irritated rage, quickly morphs to surprise, confusion, and embarrassment, before settling on gentlemanly. "Oh, Jordan. What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you today my dear?" he asks smoothly.

Well I'd say it's official: Britain has anger management issues. "Uh…well…" Feeling unsure and distinctly uncomfortable I glance at Italy for help.

Fortunately for me he has no qualms about taking over the conversation. "Well America and I went to visit Jordan because we were bored but then she kicked us out of her room so we met Danny and America and Danny were playing this scary video game and making fun of me so I went back to see Jordan and she was reading her history book about Egypt and she said it was boring so I remembered that you used to dig there so I thought you could help her!" How Italy managed to say all of that without taking a breath I have absolutely no idea. Britain looks as confused as I feel, blinking dumbly while Italy smiles back at him absentmindedly. "So you can help, ve?"

Britain seems to mentally shake himself. "Of course," he replies turning to me. "It'd be an honor. Just follow me." Britain then shuts his door behind him and sets off down the corridor. Italy jumps next to him and begins to talk his ear off while I trail curiously behind. Where could we be going?

About ten minutes- and one explosion at Italy by Britain- later we arrive at a truly nondescript door (no flag painted on this one) at the end of one of the endless hallways. Britain opens the door and enters, Italy bouncing in behind him. I'm about to follow them through, but what I see freezes me in the doorway in awe. "Welcome to your wardrobe, Jordan!" Britain says grandly, gesturing to the entire room.

And it is a massive room. With a high ceiling, it stretches for several hundred feet both sides lined with a long row of hanging clothes. It's like the biggest closet ever. Fascinated I head over to the rack of clothes to my right and begin to finger my way through the seemingly endless variety of dresses, pants, shirts…well pretty much any kind of clothing you can imagine. I'm pretty much a tomboy, so I'm not real into shopping, but a closet like this…well I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little giddy. "What is all this?" I ask, wonder in my voice as I turn back towards Britain and Italy.

Britain smirks, looking pleased. "Well we can't let you go gallivanting about in our histories the way you were dressed before, now can we? So we put this together so you can dress appropriately."

Britain's words make my face heat up as I remember the way he looked at me on the pirate ship. Feeling horribly awkward I blurt out the first thing that comes in to my head in the hope that they won't notice my blush. "Gallivanting? That's so…British."

"You think so? Yes I suppose it is, isn't it?" Britain preens, clearly very pleased. I didn't necessarily mean it as a compliment, but I guess when you're British it's good to sound British. Or if you're Britain it's good to sound British? If you're Britain does that make you British at the same time? ...Yea, still having a hard time wrapping my head around the whole "human personification of a country" thing.

I'm distracted from my musings by Italy's sudden appearance at my side. "Ve, ve! The clothes you need are over here," he says, tugging on my sleeve. I allow him to lead me over to the row on the other side of the room and about half way down it. "Here we are!" he exclaims. But before he can grab any of the clothes Britain pushes him out of the way.

"You don't know what you're looking for Italy. Let me do it!" he snaps. Italy falls back, looking upset. I sigh inwardly. Can't any of these guys actually get along? Right. Looking back at world history should immediately tell me that the answer is 'no'.

Britain pulls an outfit out from the rack for me to inspect. It appears to be an off white suit thing- pants, long-sleeve button up shirt, and a belt- made of lightweight cloth. I take it from Britain, getting a closer look. It looks exactly like the clothing that British explorers wear in the movies. When I look back up Britain is holding out a pair of black boots to me. "You can change in there," he tells me, pointing to a door down at the end of the room that I hadn't noticed before.

I enter the room, which is pretty much just like a changing room in a department store, and change, not entirely sure how to feel as I pull the new clothing on. Once I'm dressed I turn around to inspect myself in the mirror. Well I certainly look the part of an explorer. The shirt and pants are fitted, with the waist of the pants coming all the way up to my natural waist. All I need now is one of those pith helmet things.

I head back out into the main room. Britain takes the time to scrutinize me, but Italy immediately exclaims, "Wow, you look really good Jordan!"

"Thanks," I say, suddenly too shy to make eye contact with either of them.

Britain nods decisively. "You look perfect Jordan. Now I'm going to send you into my history when I was excavating a tomb at the Valley of the Kings. It was, oh, mid 1800's. I can't remember exactly when I'm afraid." Britain walks back towards the door that leads out into the hallway and I follow him, curious to see how he's going to get me there. Britain reaches out and opens the door, but rather than the hallway being behind it, sunlight so bright that it blinds me streams in through the doorway. "Just head for the tent with the Union Jack and you'll find me."

"Have fun!" Italy calls from behind me.

I look at Britain uncertainly as he stands there holding the door open. It's not like my last trip into his memories was exactly pleasant. He nods encouragingly at me and I look back at the open doorway. Swallowing hard I summon some courage up from somewhere, squash my apprehensions, and step through the doorway into the blinding sunlight.

…

The first thing I notice, even before my vision clears, is that it's _hot_. The sun beating down on top of my head is oppressive and sweat has already begun to drip down the back of my neck. Blinking away spots I'm finally able to take a look around. Before me stands a cluster of hills, a path disappearing between them. Above the hills rises a cliff capped by a mountaintop. Everything around me is a dull shade of brownish red, the ground consisting of nothing more than dirt and loose rocks. For me, someone from the eastern half of the US, the landscape is completely alien. But somehow the barrenness is beautiful.

Shaking off my wonder I remember what Britain told me. To find him I have to find his tent. There isn't much around besides the hills so head towards them following the path that has been worn into the dirt. The area isn't silent like I expect though. As I follow the winding path between the narrow hills I can hear people speaking, though I can't for the life of me figure out what they're saying. There's also the sound of animals and the crashing noises of rock against rock. Finally I emerge at the entrance to a narrow valley, the hills rising higher above me than before up to the sheer cliff face at the end. The place is a hive of activity with men dressed mostly in white, cloth wrapped around their heads like turbans, digging up in the hills and carrying baskets full of rocks down to camels waiting on the valley floor. Looking to my right I spot what I'm supposed to be looking for. A square tent sits at the front of a cluster of other tents hiding in the shade created by one of the hills. I suspect it was probably white originally, but the Egyptian desert has turned it the same reddish-brown color as the surrounding landscape. A British flags hangs limply in the dead air from the top of the central pole.

In the shade of the tent sit three Egyptian men apparently taking a break and smoking what looks suspiciously like a hookah. As I approach the tent, uncertain about what to do, they shoot me strange looks and then lean together and start speaking rapidly in Arabic. Feeling incredibly uncomfortable I take a deep breath and decide that I may as well jump in with both feet. And I really want to get out of this ridiculous heat. I step up to the tent, reach out and grab the flap, and pull it open.

Two men, obviously British, and Britain all look up at me from where they are gathered around the table in the middle of the tent, surprise in their eyes. They are dressed similarly to me, though their clothing looks much shabbier and worn than mine. Unfortunately there is no relief from the heat inside the tent. "Excuse me," one of the men says. He sounds like he's trying to be polite, but surprise and aggravation have leaked into his tone. "But who are you?"

I shift from foot to foot, thinking that maybe jumping right in was not the best way to approach this. "…Jordan Curren."

"And what are you doing here?" Aggravation is turning into irritation in the man's eyes. There's also something condescending in his stare that I don't like. Like I don't have any right to be here. Which I suppose I don't, but there's something about that patronizing glint in his eyes that really rubs me the wrong way.

"I'm a newspaper reporter," I say, my annoyance giving me confidence. "I'm here to do a story about the excavation."

The two men exchange skeptical glances, but a pleased smile takes command of Britain's face. "You've got perfect timing then Jordan. We're just about to enter the tomb we've been working on for the past three months. Come here," he commands, motioning me forward with his hand. The two other men reluctantly make space for me between them as I step up to the table. On it a map of the valley is laid out, spots marked where tombs have already been discovered and explored. "How much do you know about our excavation?" Britain asks me, his eyes glinting with excitement.

"Not much," I shrug. I do know that the Valley of the Kings is a place in Egypt where there are a bunch of tombs of Egyptian pharaohs. It's also where King Tut's tomb is. I think.

"Well we're searching for the tomb of King Tutankhamen. We think it's here," he explains, pointing to a circled mark on the map close to the cliff at the end of the valley. "This entire valley is filled with tombs of pharaohs and nobles from the New Kingdom in Egypt's history. It's an absolute treasure trove! And Tutankhamen's tomb is the crown jewel." Britain's eyes suddenly take on a maniacal glint. "And I've found it before bloody France. Ha! Make sure you put that in your article. That I found it. First."

"Sure…" I agree carefully, leaning away from the intensity on Britain's face. A glance to the men on either side of me shows that they are just as apprehensive about Britain's passion as I am. It may be just a _tad_ obsessive.

"Alright!" Britain exclaims, slamming his hands down on the table. "Let's get started men!" He strides outside the tent and I hear him saying something to the three Egyptian men outside. Both of the other men shoot me skeptical glances before grabbing a bag from beside the table each and following Britain outside. With a sigh I lean against the table. What have I gotten myself into with this? I'm not sure that this is really an improvement over reading my boring textbook.

"Come on Jordan! We don't have any more time to waste!" Britain calls eagerly from outside of the tent. I sigh again. I guess it's too late to change my mind now. Straightening my back I turn and head back out into the dazzling sunlight.

…

The seven of us stand before the narrow entrance to the tomb dug into the side of one of the hills. Well I say it's an entrance, but it's really more of hole. The sunlight doesn't go very far into it before being swallowed up by total darkness. The three Egyptian men are busy lighting torches, Britain and the two British men are discussing plans for once they get inside, and I'm standing off to the side, looking at the entrance warily. I'm not claustrophobic, but the hole is somehow…ominous.

Finally all the torches are lit and are passed around with all three of the Egyptian men and Britain holding one. Britain is looking excited again as he steps up to the entrance. "Let's get going!" he says grinning and entering the hole. He quickly disappears from view. One of the Egyptian men follows him and the two other British men follow him, with the second Egyptian man falling in behind them. The last Egyptian motions for me to enter before him and I reluctantly walk up to the entrance of the hole. It smells like earth inside and the sounds of the other men echo loudly back at me. Faintly I can see light up ahead. The last Egyptian man has come right up behind now, so I can't back away despite the fact that my instincts are screaming at me that this is a bad idea.

Stepping inside the entrance there is almost instant relief from the brutal heat. I follow the gently sloping passageway down, tripping over rocks and uneven spots on the floor in the dim light cast by the torch the Egyptian behind me holds. This passage is short and I quickly join Britain and the others where the first passage meets another one that is cut much more smoothly out of the stone. Up at the front of the little group I can see Britain practically bouncing with excitement. After a brief discussion between Britain and the two British men about how the true entrance to the tomb had been hidden by filling the passage I've just walked through with debris we move on.

This next passage is a bit easier to walk through, the floor more even. It's still dark though with only the torches for light and it is silent as, well, the grave besides our footsteps. We're only walking for a few minutes when Britain suddenly shouts from up ahead, "This is wonderful!" The sound echoes oddly as we all follow Britain forward and I see why as I step out of the passageway into a room that the torchlight has suddenly illuminated.

It's not a particularly big room, not much larger than the tent. But that's clearly not what Britain was walking about. The walls and the ceiling of the tomb are all plastered and painted in bright colors, creating a mosaic of images and hieroglyphics. Despite the plaster cracking and peeling in some places the colors are amazingly well preserved, seemingly almost alive in the dancing light thrown by the torches. Britain and one of the British men step forward to examine the walls more closely. The third pulls a sketchbook out of his bag and begins to make a rough drawing of the room from what I can see over his shoulder. The Egyptian men gather together and begin to speak rapidly. Even though I can't understand what they're saying the awe in their voices mirrors my own.

Gaping at the decorated ceiling I walk further into the room only to kick something with the toe of my boot, sending it clattering loudly across the floor. Jumping at the noise I look down and see that it was a piece of broken pottery. In fact the entire room is covered in shards of broken pottery, scraps of paper that's probably papyrus, and splinters of wood. "What happened?" I gasp, appalled at the obvious destruction around me.

"Tomb robbers," Britain replies grimly, straightening up from where he'd been examining some hieroglyphics near the floor. "It was quite a common practice in antiquity. Nearly all the tombs that have been found here have been robbed."

Looking down at the discarded scraps of ancient history littering the floor of the room I can't help but feel sad. Who knows what's been lost because tomb robbing like this?

"But it's not all bad," Britain tells me kindly. I look up at him surprised and he chuckles lightly. "Come here for a moment." I step up beside him and he points to the spot on the wall that he had been examining earlier. Bending down, I squint to get a better look in the faint light. In between the hieroglyphics something else is carved. They look like…letters? "Is that Greek?" I ask, confused, standing straight again and looking at Britain.

"Yes it is," Britain says, sounding pleased. "There's some Latin written next to it as well."

"But how?" I ask, perplexed.

Britain chuckles again. "Ancient tourists."

"Tourists?" I deadpan. "You can't be serious."

"I'm completely serious my dear. Touring tombs was common practice in antiquity. And some visitors couldn't help but to leave their own mark."

I want to think that he's lying, but with the way that Britain's smiling indulgently at me I know it's true. I turn back to the wall and examine the letters again, my feeling on wonder returning. Being in an ancient Egyptian tomb is pretty cool, but to think that there have been other people here before me, people from ancient Greece and Rome at that, that have come just to see the tomb…well that's pretty cool too. It's probably not very good for the tomb itself, but it's amazing to think that the ancient world was so connected that people would come and be tourists here.

We spend a few more minutes in the room before Britain announces that it's time to move on and we move out into the corridor beyond the room. We pass through another room nearly identical to the previous one and some more corridors before we enter a third room. It looks a lot like the other two- decorated walls and ceiling, broken bits of stuff everywhere- except for one thing. There is a door at the other end of the room blocking the exit. Hieroglyphics painted in black wind all the way around it. While I have no idea what the hieroglyphics say even I can tell that it's something along the lines of 'Keep Out!'.

Britain and the two British men stepped towards the door, completely ignoring everything else in the room. Britain raises his torch, illuminating the hieroglyphics more clearly. "What does it say?" Britain asks, glancing to the man who had been sketching in the other room.

"It's a warning," the man replies. "It says something along the lines of 'Those who disturb my eternal rest shall suffer my curse. They shall find no rest once I send them to their eternal sleep.' There's more to it than that, but I'll need some time to decipher it."

"I see. A curse is it?" A tremor of fear has appeared in Britain's voice. I want to scoff at him for thinking that something like a mummy's curse is actually real, but down here under the earth, in the dark, it's kind of hard not to believe it. I can feel the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

"What're we going to do?" the second British man asks, turning to Britain.

Britain is quiet for a long moment and then vigorously shakes his head. "We're going to press on of course! We haven't come all the way to Egypt and done all this work to turn back now!"

As Britain takes a determined step forward the three Egyptian men all begin shouting in Arabic, making me jump in surprise. They're all clustered in the doorway behind me and they all look very nervous. Britain and the other two look just as confused as I feel. "What're they saying?" Britain asks, turning towards the second British man.

The man tries to speak to the Egyptian men, his Arabic a bit halting. The other three talk over him, sounding more and more agitated as they gesture to the wall above the door. Finally the British man turns back to Britain and the Egyptian men fall silent. "They say they won't go any farther, not with the evil eye marking the doorway. They say we shouldn't go any further any either."

Feeling confused I look back at the wall above the door. I take a couple steps closer and then I see an eye painted among the hieroglyphics, centered above the door. Britain turns and looks up at it too, before looking back at the Egyptian men and scoffing. "That's no evil eye. It's the eye of Horus. It brings protection not death. This is ridiculous. We'll keep going without them. Tell them they can go home if they're so scared."

The second British man goes over to the Egyptian men and starts talking to them quietly, while Britain and the other man start trying to break through the door. Feeling awkward and uneasy I stand in the middle of the room, uncertain about what I should be doing. Britain sounded brave when he was yelling at the Egyptian men, but I kind of got the feeling that he was just talking himself up. And I'm starting to get this funny feeling that going any further isn't a good idea, mummy's curse or not.

There is a loud bang as Britain and the first British man manage to force the door open. It has no hinges so it has fallen to the floor. Britain steps on it and holds his torch up high, staring into the darkness beyond. The air coming up from beyond the door is cool and smells old and stagnant. The second British man passes me carrying one of the Egyptian's torches and joins the other two by the door. Britain turns and looks back at me, something in his green eyes freezing me in place. Suddenly it's like we're the only two people in the room. No, the entire world.

"Are you coming?" he asks me quietly, his voice carrying easily through the silence.

I feel strangely trapped in Britain's gaze. Perhaps mesmerized is a better word. All my misgivings seem to melt away as he looks at me with eagerness and determination in his eyes. This probably the first time since I've met him- even though it has only been a couple of days- that I really feel like he isn't…human. That I realize he is so much more than that. "Yes." I reply, no doubt whatsoever in my tone. Britain grins widely in response and then turns away, breaking the spell. I am now just an ordinary woman, standing in a tomb in Egypt in the 1800s, about to follow to two men and the human of personification of Great Britain into the dark unknown. I think it's time to start questioning my sanity again.

…

The walk is much longer this time. The passage on the other side of the door is spacious compared to the one connecting the three rooms above. The walls and floor are much smoother as well. We follow the passage for what seems like miles as it slowly curves downwards and to the left, giving the impression that we're walking down in an enormous spiral. And then we reach the end. The tunnel literally straightens out and then just ends with a stretch of blank wall.

"This can't be right." Britain says, irritably. "There's no burial chamber!"

"Maybe we missed a turn somewhere?" one of the men offers.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Britain snaps back, his temper clearly rising.

Under the sound of them arguing I here something. I turn around, straining my ears as I try to identify the sound that is causing my stomach to suddenly feel like it's full of lead. "Shut up!" I finally shout, losing my own temper.

"Shut up?" the British man splutters, offended. "How dare you-!"

The man is cut off by Britain throwing his arm out to stop him. "What's wrong Jordan?"

"I hear something."

The other three grow very quiet as they listen too. And that's when I identify the sound as a deep rumbling coming from above us and rapidly growing louder.

"What's that?" the British man who was just yelling at me asks, his voice nearly an octave higher.

No one answers him. I'm not sure, but I've got a horrible suspicion about what the sound could be. As it grows louder the floor and walls begin to shake, dislodging a millennia of dust and showering us with bits of stone. And then we see it and my suspicions are confirmed. An enormous round rock that fills the corridor appears around the last bend of the tunnel and rolls towards us at an alarming speed. For a moment my mind is completely frozen. Is this really happening? Is this _seriously_ happening? It's so…so…freaking cliché! Am I in _Indiana Jones _now or something? The trance that the appearance of the rock has put us in breaks as Britain yells, "RUN!"

In unison all four of us turn and start sprinting down the tunnel, the rock rolling and rumbling behind us. Unfortunately though we're quickly running out of tunnel. And once we reach the end there's nothing we're going to be able to do except stop and wait to be inevitably squished. I try not to think about it as I run though, my lungs burning for air. Britain and the other two men are in front of me, the light from the torches flickering wildly as we run. Suddenly Britain skids to a stop. The other two blow past him, desperate to save their own skins. I slow, however, if only to grab Britain and get him to keep running.

"Wait! There's another passage here!" Britain shouts, pointing desperately off to his right. I'm confused for a moment as I slow to a stop but then I spot the other corridor. It connects to the tunnel we're in at a sharp angle, making it difficult to see in the dim light. I'm about to run down it, but the other two men suddenly crash by me, the first knocking me off balance, the second flat out knocking me over. Before I hit the ground Britain catches me and pushes me down the new tunnel, following close on my heels.

The four of us run a few yards down the new passageway and stop to catch our breaths. I collapse forward, my hands on my knees, as I pant, my lungs burning. I'm so freaking glad that Britain spotted this tunnel. I really don't want to die by being squashed by an enormous rock. The rumbling grows deafening as the rock approaches the entrance to the new passage. But rather than rolling past the rock slows a bit and somehow swings into our tunnel. All four of us are frozen in shock for a moment and then we run again. The rock rumbles loudly along behind us.

We run and run and run. Nothing more appears out of the dark to save us, but at least we haven't hit another dead end yet. My entire chest feels like it's on fire and my legs are starting to get heavy. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to keep running and the rock just keeps on coming. Suddenly the man that's in front disappears abruptly, the light from his torch disappearing with him and casting the entire tunnel in front of me into shadow. Alarmed and confused I hit the brakes as the man directly in front of me disappears as well. As I skid to a stop I see why. Where the floor should be there is a yawning hole, illuminated by the torch lying in the bottom. And in the hole there are many long pointy spikes sticking up into the air, both of the British men skewered on them. Both of them are dead, I realize, as they hang morbidly in the air suspended on the spikes, the bottom of the pit glistening with blood.

I gape down into the pit, too horrified to scream as I balance on the tips of my toes in order to keep from falling in as well. Suddenly there is a jerk on the back of my shirt and I am spun away from the pit. My back collides with cold stone and suddenly Britain is literally right in front of me, pressing me up against an indent in the wall with his own body. Before I can question what the hell he's doing the rock rumbles past, close enough that it catches the back of Britain's shirt. There is an almighty crash and when I look I see that the rock has finally come to a stop by falling into the pit and stopping about halfway down leaving a long, smooth curve of it exposed. My breathing ragged I look back at Britain, his face barely an inch from mine. Something inside me stills as I look into Britain's face. The same glint that was there when I was on the pirate ship shows in Britain's eyes. Like he's _enjoying_ this. Suddenly I'm hyper aware of the way that Britain's body is pressed up against mine, his arms on either side of my waste keeping me from moving away.

And then Britain steps away and the look in his eyes vanishes as he pants. "Are you alright?" he asks once he has caught his breath.

"Yes," I answer a bit breathlessly, the heat of his body being slow to fade. "But now what?"

Britain scoops up the torch he dropped when he grabbed me and pushed me up against the wall. The darkness in the tunnel is absolutely eerie with just the one torch to provide light. Britain walks over to the rock stuck in the pit. "Well…" he considers quietly, stomping his foot against the rock. "I guess this is the mummy's 'curse'," he mutters to himself. I'm completely mystified for a moment about what he's doing stomping on the rock until Britain jumps on top of it and I realize he was checking to see if it was stable. "We keep moving," Britain finally says decisively.

I stare at him blankly for a moment before my brain is able to process what he just said. "You can't be serious!"

Britain turns back to me, his thick brows knitting together as he frowns. "I am completely serious my dear. I didn't come all this and almost get killed by a giant rolling boulder to turn back now."

My shock leaves me gaping. "But what about what just happened? I mean your men are both dead!" My voice is bordering on hysterical now.

Britain looks a bit uncomfortable about that. "Yes, it is most unfortunate. But sacrifices must be made for the good of science."

I can't understand it. I just can't. Both of his men are dead, both of us have nearly just died, and he just wants to carry on like nothing has happened. It's so, so…inhuman. And that's when I remember the look in his eyes right before we went into the tomb. Britain _isn't_ human. He's a country. What's the death of two men compared to the millions of his citizens that have died during his history? That will die?

Strangely these thoughts seem to settle me. The two men are dead, but there's nothing I can do about it now. I'm here to learn about ancient Egypt so I might as well press on. "Ok."

Britain blinks at me, clearly taken aback. "What?"

"Ok. Let's keep moving."

Surprise is only on Britain's face for another moment before he smiles and offers me a hand. I take it and he helps me onto the rock. We cross it and drop back to the floor on the other side. It's only a short walk until we reach the end of this tunnel and another doorway, this one leading to a narrow, winding, rough-hewn staircase. We follow the twisting staircase down and eventually hit bottom and another short corridor. I realize that we've reached the end when the torchlight reflects off something in the darkness up ahead, sending a glitter flashing across my eyes. Britain and I stop side by side in the entrance to the final room. And what a room it is. We have finally found the tomb.

As destroyed as the rooms above were this room is completely pristine, untouched for thousands of years. The colors of the decorations on the walls and ceiling are even more vibrant and the stuff…it's incredible. There is furniture and a vast number of pottery vessels filling every corner of the room. And then there are statues and jewelry and scrolls of papyrus. And in the very center of the room lies a massive sarcophagus, made of gold and elaborately painted. Both Britain and I stare into the tomb for a long time in total wonder. And then Britain steps into the room and laughs, spinning in a circle with his arms out as he takes it all in. "We found it. We really found it!"

I step inside after Britain, unable to stop my mouth from forming into a grin that matches his own. "This is amazing!" I breathe.

Still laughing joyously Britain begins to dash around the room examining various objects and giving me a running narration of what everything is and how it was used and why it was probably included in the burial. I follow him at a more sedate pace, taking my time to examine everything. Being in this tomb really is incredible. It was totally worth it coming down here even if I did almost die.

Britain has just come to the sarcophagus when someone gently lays a hand on my shoulder. Jumping a bit in surprise I twist around and see another Britain- the current one- standing behind me, an open door behind him. "You get the point now I expect?" he asks me kindly. I nod. "Alright. Let's head back then." Britain walks back through the door, leaving it open for me. I take one last look around the tomb before I follow Britain through the door.

Shutting the door behind me I see that we're back in my wardrobe. Italy is waiting for us and all but tackles me once the door is shut. "How was it? How was it?" he cries excitedly.

I glance over at Britain who is trying and failing to not look curious when it's obvious that he wants to know just as bad as Italy. I take a second to think about it. It was in a word, terrifying. And horrifying. I came close to death again and saw people die again. But still it was…"Amazing," I reply, smiling at Britain. Britain smiles back, looking both relieved and pleased.

I go back into the changing room and put my normal clothes back on. Once I'm back in the main room I briefly recount my adventure to Italy, who is probably the most enthusiastic listener I've ever met. When I finish I turn to Britain as a thought strikes me. "So was that really King Tut's tomb?" I ask, curious.

Britain looks somewhat embarrassed. "Ah, no actually. I didn't find his tomb until 1922."

I blink blankly at him. "Really?" Britain nods. I think about it for a minute and then shrug. I guess in the long run it doesn't really matter whose tomb it was. I take my leave then, waving goodbye to Italy and Britain as I step through the door and then I'm back in my room. It's gotten dark since I've been away. Out in the main room I can hear America and Danny still playing video games. I crack the door and peek out in time to see Danny and America high-fiving and shouting about an awesome 'head shot', their faces illuminated by the glow from the TV. Looks like they're best friends now.

I shut the door again and sit on my bed. After running for my life in the Egyptian tomb being back in my room feels surreal. Out of the corner of my eye I notice my textbook still lying open. I pick it up and begin to flip through it. And, I begin to think, maybe this class won't be so bad after all.

**Author's Note**

So…this chapter isn't exactly what I intended to do when I set out to write this story. Besides the crackishness (but it's not really Hetalia without at least a little bit of crack, right?) there's the whole 'getting chased by rock and almost falling into pit' thing. Not quite historically accurate. But I had this idea and I just had to write it. I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyways, but if not I'll get back to more historically accurate things in the coming chapters. And I realize that both of the times that Jordan has gone into someone's history so far it's been Britain's. I'll be getting into the other countries' histories too as we go along.

So a few notes about the history stuff in this chapter: I was always under the impression that it was the British who did most of the excavation on ancient Egypt, but really there was a whole bunch of countries involved. The French were apparently pretty involved hence the reason why Britain wants to make sure that everyone knows that _he_ found the tomb not France. Also my use of the evil eye here isn't the main one. It's actually quite common in a lot of cultures, but particularly in the Middle East, and refers to having misfortune befall you when someone looks at something you have with envy. It usually isn't intentional, but it can be, which is why I used it here (also I couldn't find any other good curse symbols that would have worked). I did my best to be accurate with the descriptions of the tomb itself. It's a lot bigger than the actual tombs in the Valley of the Kings, but let's just call that artistic license. And in this chapter (and the one with the pirates and probably all my other chapters) all this information was freely available on the Internet. Mostly through Wikipedia.

Seven more reviews! Sweeeet! A great big THANK YOU to .sisters, Atama Ga Kuru Teru, Sora'struelover, ShippudenFlower, Rinny009, Stella laLuna, and HannajimaShields. I appreciate everyone's support! Please review, whether it's to say that you liked it or to suggest something I need to do different! And to Atama Ga Kuru Teru…you have no idea how ridiculously flattered I am that you like my story better than yours. But you're the one who came up with the original concept that I used in this story, and while I've taken it in a different direction I don't think it's fair to say that one's better than the other. You're story is totally awesome and more original than mine! Thank you so much though for your praise :)

A few more things…(and just as a warning my A/Ns for this story will probably all be really long)…All my titles for this story will be in a question format (in case you were wondering). I just finished watching Soul Eater when I started this story and I did it for the first chapter and, well, I just like it. Also I was planning on working romance into this story at some point, but as of right now I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to accomplish it with the reverse harem thing. But there will be lots of sexual tension at least. And I don't know when I'm going to update this story again (sorry!). I've still got like another month left in my training program thing and I'm planning on getting back into my rotational update pattern so my Bleach stories don't get neglected. We'll have to see though I guess.

Thanks for reading!

imagination junkie


	4. Germany Does Keg Stands?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or certain idea's from Atama Ga Kuru Teru's story 'World is Ours', but I do own my characters and this plot.

_WARNING: _There's a lot of drunken debauchery in this chapter!

**Chapter 4: Germany Does Keg Stands?**

I throw back my head and laugh as Kaylie giggles beside me. We're sitting outside the student center eating lunch as is our usual Friday routine since last semester. It's an absolutely beautiful day. And sitting and talking with Kaylie, eating our crappy college cafeteria sandwiches gives me the feeling of normalcy that I've been craving all week.

Kaylie has been my best friend since we were roommates together in the dorms our freshman year of college. We don't live together anymore as Kaylie lives with her long-time boyfriend, but we're still as tight as ever. Kaylie is gorgeous with auburn hair and bright green eyes and her personality is infectiously bubbly. She's also ridiculously athletic- she runs cross-country for the university and plays on the intramural volleyball and (her favorite) girl's rugby teams.

"So, how did your classes this week go?" Kaylie asks me.

I make a face and she laughs. "They're ok, I guess," I reply. "It's just school, you know?"

Kaylie nods knowingly. "And what about your history class?"

I resist the urge to make another face, but Kaylie grins at me anyways. "It's probably going to be the death of me."

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad."

"It's just not my thing."

"It sounds pretty interesting to me. Aaron said you had to join the International Club or something for it? I didn't even know the school had one of those."

I hurriedly squash my alarm, hoping that it doesn't show on my face. I didn't think Aaron would tell anyone! "Yea….I didn't either." As I begin to laugh awkwardly I see that Kaylie has suddenly zoned out. "Kaylie?...You ok?"

"Yea, I'm fine." That's when I realize that Kaylie isn't zoning out, but actually focusing on something over my shoulder. "Jordan…there's three really hot guys over there and I think they're all staring at you!" Kaylie eyes have now lit up excitedly, but I just have a horrible feeling of dread. Turning around slowly I see the three of them standing a bit behind me- France, China, and Russia. What did I do to deserve this?

France suddenly notices that I've seen them and waves at me. "Bonjour Jordan!" I flinch and quickly look away, though I know that it's too late.

"Oh my gosh!" Kaylie gushes to me in a hurried whisper. "So you do know them! You're going to introduce me right?"

Kaylie shuts up as the three countries approach me from behind. "I'm glad we found you Jordan. Your school's campus is very confusing," China says.

"Da. And there are so many nice people who stare and point." Russia adds in his ever-happy tone. He says it like it's a good thing. Though I'm not surprised that he's attracting attention considering he's still wearing his scarf despite the heat.

"Wow, you've got such interesting new friends Jordan!" Kaylie says, eyeing the countries eagerly. "You're going to introduce me, _right_?" I wince as Kaylie's foot connects with my shin under the table.

"Of course," I sigh reluctantly. I should have known that Kaylie was going to end up meeting some of the countries sooner or later. "Guys, this is my friend Kaylie. And Kaylie these are some of the guys from the International Club." It's an effort for me not place sarcastic emphasis on 'international club'. "This is China, Russia, and-"

I'm interrupted by France suddenly sliding onto the picnic table bench next to Kaylie. "And I am France, ma belle dame." France smiles charmingly and then- and I can't believe he actually has the guts to do it- he picks up Kaylie's hand and kisses it. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Kaylie, being the hopeless romantic she is, eats it up. She blushes prettily and giggles, fluttering her eyelashes at France. "It's nice to meet you too."

As China makes a sound of disapproval in the back of his throat I stand up and walk around the table. Grabbing the back of France's shirt I pull him away. "She's spoken for," I growl as I pull him to his feet and push him back over towards China and Russia. France doesn't protest, but he does pout childishly at me.

"Jordan!" Kaylie exclaims, sounding cheated. I shoot her a glare and she gives me a pout that rivals France's. Kaylie really is loyal to her boyfriend, but she spends way too much time reading those romance novels so she gets mushy every time a boy makes eyes at her. Which actually happens pretty often. It's exhausting keeping her in check sometimes.

"Sorry Kaylie," I reply quickly, grabbing my backpack and my trash from lunch so that I can get away before anything else happens. "Anyways, I need to get to class. And have a word with these three." I shoot the three countries a dirty look that they either don't see or ignore.

"Oh ok," Kaylie says, disappointed. "But I'll see you guys tonight right?"

I freeze as France, China, and Russia all turn towards Kaylie. Oh please, no. Please, please, please no! "What do you mean, belle dame?" France asks, as Kaylie starts blushing again.

"The party tonight. Jordan invited you didn't she?" All three of them now turn towards me. I swallow, hard.

"No, she didn't," France replies, smirking at me. "But thank you so much for informing us. We'll be sure to attend." France blows a kiss at Kaylie as he turns away, sending her into another fit of giggles. As he walks by me he grabs my elbow. "You have a class to get to right chérie?" China and Russia say their own goodbyes and then close rank behind us and I'm left with no choice but to be dragged along by France.

Finally, some distance away, in the shadow of one of the classroom buildings, France releases me and steps back to join Russia and China. All three of them look at me expectantly. "What?" I finally ask, feeling uncomfortable under their scrutiny.

"You're having a party tonight and you didn't tell us? I'm hurt, chérie," France begins, laying a hand over his heart.

"It's most rude." Chine chastises me. "You should have invited us as well."

"Do you not want us around?" Russia asks tilting his head to the side, his smile never faltering.

"Hold on a second!" I protest, holding a hand up to stop them before they can say anything more. "First of all it's not my party. It's a party for Danny's frat. They're having it at our house because they can't have it on campus. And second of all you guys don't actually want to come to a college party do you?"

"Why wouldn't we?" France asks, flipping his hair elegantly. "College parties are the epitome of youth and exuberance, oui?"

"It's rude not to invite us whether we want to come or not," China says. "And of course we want to come!"

"We're your friends, da? Why wouldn't we like to come?" Russia adds, closing his eyes as his smile widens.

All I can do is gape dumbfounded at them for a moment. They actually want to come to a great, big, get-so-drunk-you-pass-out-and-have-no-memory-of-what-happened college party? Who would've thought that nations of the world would be interested in that? I mean, don't they have more important things to be worrying about? But France, China, and Russia are all just staring at me expectantly. And they said they consider me their friend…I don't have the heart to just tell them that they can't come. So, against my better judgment…"Ok…you guys are invited."

"Yay!" Russia says, grinning like a kid who's just been promised ice cream.

China nods in approval. "We would be honored to attend."

"That's more like it," France adds, smiling at me in a way that I can only describe as smoldering.

"Ok, fine," I say, my face suddenly feeling hot. "But try not to attract too much attention tonight, alright? And Russia, why in hell are you wearing that scarf? It's like 90 degrees out here!"

Russia looks down at his scarf, confused. Other than the offending item he's just dressed just as normally as France and China. "It was a gift from my big sister Ukraine. I always wear it."

"But you don't need it now."

"But it's always cold at my place," Russia replies, smiling again. I blink at him stupidly. Russia is just…weird. China eyes him warily as France just shakes his head at me.

"…Anyways, I really do need to go to class now…"

"We'll see you tonight then!" China says cheerily as he turns and begins to walk away. Russia follows him, half-turning back to wave at me. I sigh. I didn't have the heart to tell them that they couldn't come, but I've got an awfully bad feeling about this party now.

"Don't worry so much, chérie." My breath catches in my throat as France's voice comes from next to my ear. I turn to see him right next to me. When did he get so close? I've never realized how blue his eyes are, I think dazedly. France smiles and my heart flips over. "Tonight will be fun," he promises. He then lifts a hand and runs it through my hair where it hangs over my ear, allowing his fingers to ghost over my jaw as he walks away. "Until then…"

As soon as France turns away from me whatever hold he had on me is broken. I lean back into the wall of the building, my hand over my heart that is beating a mile a minute. That's not fair. That's _really _not fair. How can some one who is so obviously perverted be so…so…charming? My face burns as I gather myself and start walking to class. I've definitely got a bad feeling about this party now.

…

We've finally got everything set up and people are just starting to arrive. There's a couple of beer pong tables in the family room, there's a keg out back and another one hidden in Danny's room, and alcohol is available on pretty much every other flat surface. The blow out party for the beginning of the semester is set, and boy am I not excited. It's pretty normal for us to host parties at our house since the campus is dry and Danny's frat can't have them at the frat house, but I never get too excited about them. It can be fun to party hard every once in a while, but I'm always the one who ends up cleaning up the mess the next morning.

And I have another reason to be apprehensive tonight- all the countries are coming. Apparently France, China, and Russia told the others about the party because they all jumped me when I got home. After a lot of shouting and shoving I managed to get the point across that they were all invited, but they needed to enter through the front door and _not_ through my bedroom door. Just because they live in the globe in my room doesn't mean the rest of the world needs to know it. They promised me they would but I'm still freaking out about it.

"Hey Jordan!" I turn to see Kaylie coming through the door, her boyfriend Brian behind her.

"Yo," Brian adds, raising a hand in greeting. "You got any Jack?"

"In the kitchen," I reply, pointing over my shoulder with my thumb. Brian nods in thanks and disappears into the kitchen.

Her boyfriend out of sight Kaylie latches onto my arm. "So are they coming?" she whispers to me excitedly.

I roll my eyes. "Yea, they're coming."

"Oh good. I'm so excited!" Kaylie squeals.

"You already have a boyfriend, you know," I remind her.

"Psh! I know that! But you don't," she replies slyly, smirking at me. All I can do is gape at her. That hasn't been her plan all along has it?

I don't get the chance to ask, as the front door is suddenly slammed open. "Ok everyone! The hero has arrived!" I resist the urge- but just barely- to slap my palm against my forehead as American stands in the doorway, hands on his hips, and laughs. At least they came through the front door after all.

"America! I didn't know you were coming!" Danny shouts, coming out of the kitchen.

"Of course, dude!" America replies, high-fiving Danny as he approaches. "Now let's get this party started!"

Danny drags America over to one of the beer pong tables and the rest of the countries filter in through the door. Kaylie is staring at them all open mouthed. And she isn't the only one. Most of the other girls in the room have turned hungry stares on them. "Oh my god, Jordan," Kaylie whispers in my ear. "You didn't tell me that you had _more_ hotfriends!" From the door France spots us and winks at Kaylie. I'm surprised she doesn't faint then and there.

The countries begin to spread out and Germany approaches me with Italy and Japan in tow. "Do you have any…uh…_good_ beer?" Germany asks, eyeing a box of cheap stuff with distaste.

"Probably," I shrug. "If there is any it's in the back of the fridge." I point over my shoulder to the kitchen.

"Danke," Germany grunts, disappearing into the kitchen.

"Good evening Jordan-san," Japan says, bowing, before following Germany.

"Hi Jordan!" Italy yells despite the fact that he's right in front of me. "Ve! Who's your friend?"

"Yes, you should introduce us," Britain says, coming up behind Italy. Kaylie really does look like she might faint now from all the attention. She's blushing a very bright pink.

"This Kaylie. Kaylie, Italy and Britain."

"It's really nice to meet you guys," Kaylie gushes.

"It's nice to meet you as well," Britain replies pleasantly.

"Ve! You're really pretty Kaylie!"

Kaylie is reduced to a stammering thank you and I slip away, not willing to witness Kaylie lose her grip on her ability to speak. Or Britain's rant that is bound to follow. I head into the kitchen and run into Aaron. "I didn't think you were going to invite them," Aaron says, nodding with raised eyebrows to where Germany is rummaging in the back of the fridge while Japan has been cornered by a couple of girls and looks extremely uncomfortable.

"I didn't really invite them," I reply sourly. "Kaylie did."

"Oh." Aaron looks back at Germany where he stands scowling at the fridge and muttering what are probably curses in German. Japan has managed to escape back out into the living room. "Well I guess it's not a bad thing. I mean they're your friends right? This will give them a chance to meet some more people."

"I guess," I sigh. There's that word again. 'Friends'. I guess they consider me their friend, but I'm not sure that they're mine. Or that I want them to be mine. Is that mean? Probably. I mean it touches me that they consider me a friend. But would you call a bunch of people who suddenly jump into your life and turn it on its head your friends? Thinking about this is making my head hurt.

"Here." I'm pulled forcefully from my thoughts as Aaron shoves a can of beer into my hand. "You look like you need it," he says. Then he claps his hand on my shoulder in a consoling way and walks out into the family room. I lean against the counter and look down at the can of beer in my hands. I'm really not sure about this whole thing. But I can't exactly tell them to go home now. I guess the best I can do is hope for the best and do what I can to mitigate any damage they might cause. I crack the can of beer open. I get the feeling I'm going to need this tonight.

…

"Would you like to become one with me?"

The two girls in front of Russia giggle, one drunkenly slopping her drink all over her hand as she leans into her friend. "Ok," she replies, batting her eyelashes at him.

Russia grins widely, but before he can do anything I grab the loose part of his scarf and pull him away. "Hey!" the other girl exclaims angrily.

"He didn't mean it like you thought he did," I tell her. "Enjoy the party!" I add as I drag Russia to the other side of the room.

Once I release my hold on his scarf Russia coughs a couple of times. "Jordan, you almost choked me. It's good you didn't though. If you had I probably would have killed you."

"Sorry…?" All the other countries seem like they're scared of Russia. I definitely thought he was weird, but I wasn't entirely sure what was so frightening about him. But when he says stuff like that with a smile on his face it's definitely…creepy.

"It's ok. Just don't do it again, da?"

"Sure. As long as you stop asking people to become one with you."

Russia nods. "Ok. Everyone will be one with me one day anyways." And there it is again. The creepiness.

I suppress my shiver. "Just don't do anything too crazy ok?"

"Da," Russia agrees easily. And then he pulls out an entire handle of vodka from under his scarf. How he hid it I have no idea.

Russia catches me staring at the massive bottle of alcohol and his smile drops. "I'm sorry. I would offer you some, but it's not enough to share." My eyes snap up to Russia's in total shock. He _can't_ be serious. But judging by the look of remorse on his face he is.

"Don't worry about it," I tell Russia faintly as I turn away. He really isn't human if he can drink that entire bottle by himself and not die of alcohol poisoning. I only get a couple steps away from Russia before Italy bounces up to me holding a large tray of jello shots.

"Ve Jordan! What are these?" he asks shoving the tray into my face.

"Jello shots," I reply, taking a step back before Italy can spill them on me.

Italy tilts his head to the side, his expression confused. "Jello shots?"

"Yea. You know jello made with alcohol." He still looks confused. I sigh. "Look, they're actually pretty good. Have one and you'll see what I mean."

Italy turns his puzzled gaze to the tray. Hesitantly he grabs one of the little plastic cups holding the jello and brings it up to his face. He looks at me again and I mime throwing back a shot. Finally Italy opens his mouth and swallows the jello shot. He instantly breaks out into an enormous grin. "That was good!" Then his attention abruptly snaps away from me and he bounces past me towards three girls who have just entered the room. "Ve! Pretty girls! Do you want to some jello shots?"

I roll my eyes as I turn away, but yet again I'm stopped by one of the countries as France throws his arm over my shoulder. "See? This is fun oui?" he whispers, his breath fanning across my ear and sending shivers down my spine.

"Yea, great," I manage to say as I duck out from under France's arm. He doesn't seem the least bit perturbed however, stepping right up next to me again with a glass of wine in one hand. I suddenly find myself trapped in his gaze again, his eyes boring into my mind as my lungs forget how to breathe.

"Though…" he practically purrs, "I know something that would make this night _much_ more fun, chérie."

Before my brain has the chance to unscramble itself and come up with a coherent answer someone shouts loudly into my ear in a drunken slur. "Bugger off you bloody frog. She doesn't want to do that with you!"

France's expression sours as Britain throws his arm over my shoulders. "And how do you know that?" France snaps at Britain.

"Because no one wants to do that with you!" Britain shouts. He then begins to laugh, swaying drunkenly. I catch a whiff of his breath and my nose wrinkles automatically. Britain isn't just drunk- he's _wasted_.

"You're trying my patience," France growls. Britain just laughs harder.

Suddenly France draws himself straight up and sniffs loudly. "Be that as it may, Britain, but I'm sure Jordan would rather do that with me than _eat your cooking_!" France is now grinning triumphantly.

Britain stares slack jawed at France for a moment before leaping forward and tackling him with an angry cry of "Take it back!" France goes down with a yelp and then they are rolling around on the floor trying to gouge each other's eyes out again. All I can do is stare dumbfounded as a crowd quickly gathers around the two of them and eggs on the fight.

"What the hell just happened?" I ask the air.

"Ah, don't worry about it," America says. "That's pretty normal actually."

I turn and raise my eyebrows at America. "I know the fighting is, but what the hell was up with Britain?"

America laughs. "Dude can't hold his liquor. He's the biggest lightweight ever!"

"America!" American turns at Danny's shout. "Get your ass out here! We're doing keg stands!"

America's face breaks into a huge grin. "Awesome! Come on Jordan!" He grabs my hand and drags me into the kitchen. As we pass through I spot China lecturing several girls about ancient Chinese wisdom. Japan stands next to him with a large bottle of alcohol in his hand that is covered in Japanese writing- I'm guessing that it's sake, but where he got it I have no idea- and looking absolutely miserable. And then we are out in the backyard where people are starting to get rowdy as a girl takes her turn to do a keg stand.

The girl comes down and stumbles drunkenly away while Danny steps up. America leaves me to go hold Danny's legs and I drift around the crowd looking for some place that's a little quieter. To my surprise I bump into Germany watching the keg stands with a somber expression and holding a glass of beer. "I'm kind of surprised," I tell him as I stop next to him. "I wouldn't have thought that keg stands would be your kind of thing."

Germany snorts derisively. "It's a disgrace. Not even bad beer should be treated like that."

While I don't disagree with him it's amusing that he's so bothered by it. I shrug in response and he rewards me with a glare. Our attention is drawn forward again at the loud cheer that the crowd lets out with the end of Danny's keg stand. Danny gives high fives to all of his friends around him and then grabs America's shoulder. "Alright it's your turn!"

"Yea!" America shouts in response, stepping up to the keg. I sneak a peek at Germany who is scowling fiercely and has begun to mutter under his breath in German again.

"Ve! Germany!" Italy suddenly stumbles up, the tray still in his hands though it only holds one jello shot now. Italy is considerably drunker than he was earlier as he waves the tray under Germany's nose. "These are really good! I saved the last one for you!"

Germany's eye has begun to twitch. "Nein, thank you."

Italy's reaction is instantaneous. "But…but…I saved it just for you!" There are tears welling up in the corners of his eyes now.

Germany sighs and unconsciously brings his free hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "That's very kind of you Italy, but I'm perfectly happy with just my beer."

Italy sniffles loudly but before he has the chance to respond another cheer breaks out from the crowd and he is distracted. "Ve? What's going on over there?"

"Keg stands," I sigh as America finishes his and begins to jump around cheering.

"Like beer? Ve, Germany you should do that!"

"No way in hell," Germany replies, shutting Italy down.

"That's cause you're a chicken!" Britain shouts from behind us in his drunken slur.

"Yes, a big, fat, potato eating chicken!" France laughs. Apparently they're friends now as they stumble forward, arms around each other's shoulders.

"I am not a chicken," Germany growls, both of his eyes twitching now.

"Dude Germany! Come here and do a keg stand!" America exclaims as he runs over to us.

"_Nein! I refuse!"_ Germany explodes.

"What? Come on dude don't be such a party pooper."

"Ve, ve I think you should do it, Germany."

"Chicken! Chicken!"

Germany's so irritated that his face is turning red. "FINE!" he roars as he finally snaps. "Hold this!" he growls at me, shoving his beer glass in my face. I take it and he stalks off towards the keg, the crowd moving away to give him plenty of space.

"See! I told you he'd bloody do it!" Britain shouts, nearly falling down.

"No you didn't. It was moi who said that!"

"No it wasn't!"

"Yes it was!"

I sigh as Britain and France begin to fight again, they're truce apparently over. Turning again I see Germany shoo the people who step up to try and help him away. Then he puts his hands of the keg and goes up into a perfect handstand, completely unsupported. The roar from the crowd is nearly deafening.

"Awesome!" America exclaims, running back into the mob around the keg.

"Yay! Go Germany!...Ve?" Italy's attention span is, evidently, even shorter when he's intoxicated and so when another pretty girl walks by he doesn't even hesitate to shove the tray at me and go running off after her.

…You know what? I give up. I'm standing in my backyard in the middle of a ruckus of a college party with Germany's beer in one hand and a tray with one jello shot in the other and it's insanity all around me. Germany is doing a keg stand while America cheers him on. Italy has gone chasing after another girl while Britain and France, who apparently can't decide whether they're friends or enemies, are fighting yet again. China and Japan are doing who knows what while Russia is drinking an entire handle of vodka by himself. Seriously, I give up. I'm going to have these idiots in my life for at least the rest of the semester so I may as well get used to it and accept that my life is going to be total insanity for the next three months.

I set the tray down on the ground and grab the last jello shot. What's the first step to accepting all of this? For now, getting wasted.

…

I wake up slowly the next morning. Thankfully my hangover isn't too bad- just a dull throbbing ache. My memories from last night after that first jello shot are pretty blurry, but I think everything turned out ok. Actually I ended up having fun. I think… My bed is nice and warm and comfortable so I roll over with the intention of going back to sleep. And that's when I realize I'm not alone. My eyes snap open in alarm and I'm greeted by the sight of Italy's peacefully sleeping face, a little line of drool tracing its way down his chin. Suddenly terrified, I scream and push Italy off my bed. He hits the floor hard, but simply rolls over and continues sleeping. I blink in surprise. He's a heavy freaking sleeper.

Still breathing hard I sit up, horrified by thoughts of what might have happened last night. I don't remember anything, but that sure as hell doesn't mean nothing happened. Once I make sure that both Italy and I are fully dressed I breathe a sigh of relief and look around. My room is quite dark. Apparently I had the presence of mind last night- or sometime this morning- to close the curtains over my window. Standing, and after carefully stepping over Italy, I throw the curtains open to let the morning (or is afternoon?) sunlight into the room.

Immediately I hear two loud groans from the other end of the room. Turning I see Britain and France lying tangled up together on the floor as if they'd fallen asleep in the middle of one of their fights.

"Someone tell the light to shut up," Britain mumbles, rolling away and moving his arm to cover his face.

"Yes, please," France whimpers, curling up on himself.

I practically have to stuff my hand in my mouth to keep from laughing. It really is too funny to see them like that. Makes me wish I had a camera. I step back over Italy and then Britain and France before opening my door and stumbling out into the living room. Glancing around I see China sprawled out on the sofa, snoring softly. Japan is curled up in the beanbag chair fast asleep. And Russia and Germany are sitting at the table. Both of them have cups of coffee and Germany is reading the newspaper.

Russia looks up. "Ah, good morning Jordan!"

I see Germany's eyes flick up to me over the top of the paper before moving back down. "Guten Morgen."

"Yea, morning," I reply, running a hand through my hair. "Is it really still morning though?"

"Da," Russia answers with a smile. "But just barely." I glance over at the clock by the kitchen. 11:43.

"Ah well," I shrug as I pull out a chair and sit down as well. "It's Saturday. How are you guys already up though?"

Russia looks puzzled. Germany lowers his newspaper and levels a raised-eyebrow stare at me. "What do you mean?"

"You drank a lot last night didn't you? You're not hung-over at all?" My tone may have slipped into pleading a bit at the end.

"Of course not," Germany scoffs, disappearing behind the newspaper again.

Russia shakes his head energetically. "I never have problems like that."

Right. Of course not. Russia and Germany. I should have known better. "Where'd you get the coffee from?"

"Good morning Jordan!" I flinch away from America's shout, his voice loud enough to make a spark of pain flash through my temples. Of course America's up. I should have expected that too. "You're just in time! I'm almost done making breakfast!" America sets a cup of coffee down in front of me and then goes back into the kitchen. I can't help but feel a bit bemused. He definitely doesn't strike me as the type to do his own cooking.

I sit and nurse my coffee for a few minutes until America reappears holding a massive plate of pancakes. He sets it down in front of me and all I can do is stare. "What is all this?"

"It's my super amazing double double chocolate pancakes with maple syrup, chocolate sauce, whip cream, and sprinkles! And bacon!" America adds, setting down a plate piled high with bacon next to my pancakes.

Germany and Russia are staring at the food with disgust and curiosity respectively, but my mouth is watering. Not only does it look amazing, but smells amazing too. It's probably not the best thing for my hang over either, but I don't give a damn right now.

"You're not actually going to eat that are you?" Germany asks, looking horrified.

"Why wouldn't I?" I reply, accepting the fork that America hands me. I dig in and shove the first forkful into my mouth. I'm not sure I've ever tasted anything so good before in my life. "America…this is amazing. I think I love you."

"Of course! I'm the hero after all!" America laughs before disappearing into the kitchen again.

Germany ruffles his newspaper several times before hiding behind it again, though I can hear him muttering angrily in German. Russia is watching me it with fascination.

When I shoot Russia a questioning look he simply meets my eye and smiles. "American eating habits are disgusting!"

"Damn straight." I reply, stuffing another forkful of pancake in my mouth. "God bless America!"

**Author's Note**

Yay another chapter! And I know there isn't any history stuff in this one, but I'm not planning on doing in it every chapter. I want to focus on Jordan's life some and I think it'd get a little bit old if I did it every single chapter. And despite the fact that there isn't history in this one, this chapter is still important. I've made it pretty clear (or at least I think so) that Jordan's been fighting this whole experience since it started, but in this chapter she literally gives up. So the countries will have a much bigger role in her regular life now than before. And while this chapter isn't is long as the last one it kind of amuses me that it ended up being way longer than I thought it would.

I feel like I should warn everyone now that I don't plan on staying away from parts of history that are controversial or unpleasant. History is history and I'm not about to cut any of it out just because someone doesn't like it. Also this story is based on my own college experience in many ways and if you haven't been to college yet let's just say your experience may vary. But it will be awesome. I've never actually done a keg stand or taken jello shots, but I have been to parties like the one described above. And in case you were wondering Jordan and her friends are all over 21.

Ten! OMG TEN REVIEWS! Gosh, y'all make me so happy ^-^. But seriously I'm really happy that you gave the last chapter that many reviews and that they were all so emphatically positive. In all seriousness this is pretty much my favorite and my most mature and well-written story to date, so I really want it to be my most popular and your reviews really mean a lot to me. THANK YOU SO MUCH sora0995, Demon Piper, HannajimaShields, Atama Ga Kuru Teru, Stella laLuna, Rinny009, ShadedEclipse, Sora'struelover, Piyo13, and ShippudenFlower. Really, THANK YOU! And please review this chapter too, even if it's just to say you hate it (though you need to tell me why then!). And if you did hate it don't worry- there will be more history next chapter. And ShippudenFlower- I have no idea when CoD is supposed to be set. But I think there's a lot of shooting at Russians. Actually I'm not even sure that you can play it multi-player on one TV. Oh well…LOL.

So sora0995 asked me what my favorite character was…and honestly I don't know. For whatever reason I can't pick just one. It was actually a problem when I was looking for a new avatar, but I ended up settling for this one 1. Because I'm American, and 2. Because I like to eat. SO yea. But America's not necessarily my favorite. I do have favorite quotes though, one of which I used in this chapter. Can you guess? Well probably, but it's fun to ask anyways. Also, I want to know…who is YOUR favorite character? And no I'm not doing this just because I want more reviews. I'm actually curious.

On more thing. I've been debating for a while now who should get to kiss Jordan for the first time. I'm not saying I'll listen, but I figured I'd ask my readers who you think it should be. Let me know!

ANYWAYS! Enough rambling…

Thanks for reading!

imagination junkie


	5. Everybody Was KungFu Fighting?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or certain idea's from Atama Ga Kuru Teru's story 'World is Ours', but I do own my characters and this plot.

**Chapter 5: Everybody Was Kung-Fu Fighting?**

When I arrive home from class on Monday I'm greeted by the deafening sound of engine noise and Danny's screamed profanities as soon as I open the door. Stepping inside I see Danny and America on the couch, both of them clutching Xbox controllers as though their lives depend on them. A glance at the TV screen shows that they are in the middle of some kind of racing game. And by the intensity of Danny's cursing he's loosing.

I do my best to ignore them as I walk by, neither of them even glancing in my direction. Aaron sits at the table with his laptop working on an assignment. Across from Aaron is Japan who is reading a book. Or at least trying to. Every time Danny or America shouts he flinches and seems to lose his place.

Finally it seems like Japan has had enough. Putting the book down he raises one hand to massage his temple. "How can you concentrate with the two of them making so much noise?" Japan asks Aaron, his tone incredulous.

Aaron's only response is to shrug, the clacking of his fingers on the keyboard never slowing. Japan frowns, clearly not satisfied with Aaron's nonverbal reply.

I stop behind Japan on my way into the kitchen. "You get used to it."

Japan jumps and whirls around. "Oh, Jordan-san. You surprised me. Welcome back."

"Thanks. And sorry."

"Hey Jordan," Aaron calls, his attention still focused completely on the screen.

Japan turns a glare back towards Aaron. "How rude," he mutters under his breath before transitioning into quietly fuming Japanese.

"Don't worry about it," I tell Japan as I take my backpack off and lay it on the table. "You get used to him too."

"If you say so, Jordan-san," Japan replies skeptically before picking up his book again.

I shrug noncommittally. Apparently Japan can be stubborn when he wants to be. My stomach growls hungrily and I head into the kitchen to make lunch. I'm just about to open the door of the fridge when movement from outside catches my eye. Looking out through the big window in the back door I see Germany and Italy out in the backyard. Italy is sitting in the middle of the yard playing with one of the neighborhood cats while Germany watches from one of the deck chairs we keep on the patio.

I watch the two nations for a moment feeling bemused. It's strange really. It's only been a weekend and somehow the countries have become an integral part of our lives. Neither Danny, nor Aaron, nor I even bat an eyelash now if one or two of them are always around. Which is a good thing because it's usually more like three or four. I feel like I should still be freaked out about it, but after the party on Friday having them around just seems…normal. I guess I really have accepted it. The whole 'human personifications of world nations coming out of a globe' thing.

I'm drawn out of my musings by a cry of pain from Italy. He had picked up the cat at one point and started hugging it, which apparently it didn't appreciate. With a yowl of anger it had swiped at Italy's face and he had dropped it with a yell. Italy now sits in the yard with tears in his eyes, three long scratch marks running across his nose and cheeks. Germany, for his part, heaves a dramatic sigh, dropping his head and everything, before rising and walking across the yard to comfort Italy. I can't help but smile at this, amused. As annoyed by Italy as Germany always seems to be he sure is overprotective of him.

I get back to the task at hand and open up the fridge, grabbing some lunchmeat and cheese. I make myself a sandwich and once I'm finished I head back out into the main room. It's a lot quieter now, as Danny and America have finished their game opting to watch TV instead. "Whatcha watching?" I ask, plopping myself down next to America on the couch.

"Cops," Danny replies.

America begins to sing horribly off key. "Bad boys, bad boys, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they- is that a sandwich?" I turn to see America's eyes focused on the sandwich that is halfway to my mouth. I think he might be drooling a bit.

"What?"

"Dude, will you make me one?"

"No way. Make your own America."

"Come on please? Yours looks so good! I bet it tastes way better than one I'd make!" America begs.

"No. And I swear Danny, if you say one thing about a woman's place being the kitchen I'm going to kick your ass." Danny shuts his mouth and turns back to the TV wearing a pout.

After that I am successfully able to ignore America's pleading looks and finish my sandwich in peace. America and Danny get bored of watching Cops pretty quickly and by the time I've finished washing my dishes they've put another one of Danny's shooting games into the Xbox. I step back out into the main room. Aaron hasn't shifted an inch since I came home, still typing away on his computer, but Japan seems to have given up trying to read his book and is now sitting with his head lying on the table. He looks like he's trying to fight off a headache and failing.

"Hey Japan," I say, picking my backpack up off the table. "I was gonna work on my history homework. Think you can help me out with something?"

"Of course Jordan-san," Japan replies, giving me a grateful look as he stands. He follows me back into my bedroom where I close the door, mercifully muffling the sounds from the living room. "So what do you need help with?" Japan asks as I dump my backpack on my bed.

"Well, the paper is supposed to be about Ancient China this week. Do you think you could, you know, take me into the globe so I don't get lost?" I ask, feeling a bit sheepish.

The corners of Japan's mouth turn upwards in a small smile. "Of course, Jordan-san. Please, follow me." He reaches a hand out and a door appears in front of him. He opens it and steps inside and I follow. We step out into the large conference room that I arrived in the first time I was in the globe, but it's empty. Without pausing Japan strides across the room to a door on the far wall and leads me through it into the globe's maze of hallways.

We walk through several before we reach the hallways lined with painted doors. I'm really glad now that I asked Japan to help me because there's absolutely no way that I'd be able to find my way without help. I glance at Japan's back as we walk. Of all the countries he is by far the quietest and most reserved. He's the shortest too, being just a hair's breadth shorter than me. And he's so polite. But he can be kind of touchy too. Actually it's kind of weird that he hangs out with Italy and Germany all the time. They're so animated…especially Italy.

That's when I remember that Japan was hanging out with China pretty much the whole night on Friday. And that wasn't the first time either. "Hey Japan. It seems like you and China are pretty close."

"Really?" Japan asks, throwing me a surprised glance over his shoulder. "What makes you say that?"

"Well, you were with him pretty much the whole time at the party on Friday right?"

"True…but I would not think that would give you that impression."

I shrug, a bit taken aback by his slightly annoyed response. "So are you two close?" If he is, it'd be nice to find out a little bit more about China before I jump into his history. I haven't gotten to know China very well yet. He's kind of standoffish.

"No, not really," Japan replies. "But China does like to think of himself as my…older brother," Japan finishes his tone turning sour at the end.

I blink in surprise. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Well is he?"

"No." Japan's tone is final this time. But after a short pause he speaks again, slightly exasperated. "But don't tell him that please."

"Sure thing," I agree, coming to a stop beside Japan in front of a door painted with the Chinese flag.

"Thank you Jordan-san," Japan sighs. He then raises a hand to knock.

Unlike with Britain, there is no crash followed by muffled cursing. Instead it is completely silent from the other side of the door for several moments before it cracks open. I can just see China's eye peeking through the crack before he recognizes us and pulls the door open all the way. "Japan! Jordan! Good day!" Japan and I both say hello, though Japan looks a bit weary about it. "I must say I wasn't expecting this. What can I do for you Jordan?" China asks, smilingly widely at me.

"Well, my paper this week is supposed to be about Ancient China, so I was hoping you could help me out."

China's eyes light up with excitement. "I'd love to help! Chinese history is wonderful, you'll see. Come with me!" he exclaims, shutting the door behind him and grabbing my hand.

"It take it you will not need my help anymore?" Japan asks.

"No, I can handle this on my own!" China says merrily over his shoulder as he begins to drag me down the hallway. "Come on Jordan!"

"Thanks Japan!" I call to him as he turns away. He turns back for a moment and gives me a short wave before heading off in the other direction. As for me, I let China drag me down the hallway as he describes all the wonders of Chinese history. It's only been a week and I've already learned that's it's best not to fight the nations when they're so enthusiastic.

…

"So, what time period of my history to you want to see? Chinese history is very, very old," he adds proudly.

"Um…well we were talking about the Han Dynasty in class today." Crap. I should've looked at my history book before I came in here. If Chinese history is as extensive as China says it is who knows where I'll end up.

"Hmmm…" China hums thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his chin. He walks over to one of the clothing racks- we're in my 'closet' again- and begins to thumb through various garments as he mutters softly to himself in Chinese. Feeling apprehensive, all I can do is watch.

"Ah yes! This is perfect!" China says suddenly, reaching out and pulling one of the outfits from the rack. "What do you think?"

I'm awestruck for a moment. China is holding a beautiful silk outfit in shades of red. There is a wrap like top with wide sleeves in bright red, the edges lined in black. There is also a dark red pleated skirt and a smaller skirt of an even darker red held around the waist by a black sash. Hanging from the sash are several jade beads on a scarlet tassel with an elaborate knot below them. Soft-looking black shoes and white socks in China's other hand complete the look.

"It's beautiful," I breathe quietly, reaching out to take the clothing from China. The silk feels like cool water on my hand. China beams at me, pleased, before shooing me towards the changing room at the back. As beautiful as the clothes are, putting them on is another matter. After about ten minutes of struggling I think I've managed to get everything on in the right place. Turning to the mirror I'm completely taken aback. The clothes are truly gorgeous. I look like some kind of Chinese princess in them. Except for my hair. Frowning, I take my ponytail down. Totally not appropriate. Instead I pull it back into a short braid. Much better.

Stepping out of the changing room I hold up my arms and turn once so that China can get the full effect of the new clothing. "What do you think?" I ask a bit nervously.

"You look wonderful!" China exclaims, clapping his hands together in excitement. "Now come here! I know exactly when I'm going to send you to." China grabs me again and drags me towards the door. "You will be going to the Eastern Han Dynasty in 166 AD." I gape at China. Holy crap that was a long time ago! Apparently he doesn't notice, however. "I think you will learn a lot. Have fun Jordan!" he cries, opening up the door and pushing me, not quite gently, through it.

…

I stumble forward and by the time I've regained my balance the door behind me has disappeared. But, honestly, I'm not really focused on that right now. And that's because I'm in the middle of some kind of magnificent palace. I am standing on a covered, raised walkway, the entrance to a building both behind me and in front of me. The floor beneath my feet is made of luxurious wood. Massive wooden columns support the roof, all painted in bright colors and intricately carved. The curved roof, which I can see the bottom of, is supported by even more intricately carved rafters. And around the walkway is the most magnificent garden I have ever seen. Towering trees, bushes and plants dripping with flowers, and multiple water features and bridges. It's beyond beautiful. Lit stone lanterns dot the garden, glowing softly in the early evening light.

This…this is Ancient China. China wasn't kidding- this place is amazing. Still gaping in awe I set off down the walkway in front of me and enter the building. After walking through a short hallway I find myself on a walkway surrounding an enormous courtyard filled to the brim with more magnificent gardening. All around the walkway there are doors leading off into what I can only assume are rooms. I set off around the courtyard, completely and totally immersed in admiring the scenery. Until I run into something very solid.

I bounce off, stagger backwards, and look up to see that I've bumped into another person. "I'm so sorry!" I begin hurriedly. "I was looking at the garden and I wasn't watching…where…" My voice trails off as the man glances curiously at me over his shoulder. Dear god…he looks like Italy!

The man turns and his face lights up as soon as he gets a better look at me. "Ah, what a pretty girl~!" And of course I blush. On closer inspection he definitely looks like he's related to Italy. But he's a bit older and more…rugged, with stubble on his chin. He's also taller and much more muscular and while Italy has one giant hair curl this man has several all over his head. But he's definitely still attractive. I'm guessing he's a country too.

Another voice drifts over the man's shoulder, but I can't understand what it's saying. It sounds like…Latin? Glancing around the man before me I see several other men all dressed in the same plain tunics as the one in front of me. They're all watching him, looking somewhat exasperated. "What?" the man in front of me asks. "You can't me expect to ignore a girl as pretty as this one can you?" My blush instantly deepens at the man's words. He laughs. "Please, bella ragazza, I must know the name of such a beautiful flower as yourself," he says, winking, as he grabs my hand and brings it to his lips to kiss.

This guy really must be a country. He's got that same weird hold over me that all the countries somehow manage to have as he catches my eye and holds it. My breath catches in my chest, as I get lost in his gaze. Before I can stutter out an answer to his question, however, a different voice interrupts us. And it's very annoyed. "Hey! What are you doing here bothering our guests?"

The man turns his attention to the person behind me giving me the chance to breathe again. I turn and see China standing behind us, his hands on his hips and his expression disapproving. Except he looks younger- probably in his late teens. He is wearing a wrapped kind of robe of bright yellow that falls to his knees. The pants beneath the rope are brown and his shoes are just like mine.

The man in front of me suddenly laughs, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture. "Don't worry China! She isn't bothering me at all~!"

China sighs dramatically. "I'm glad you are being so easy going about this, Rome…" Wait a second…this guy is Rome? Like Italy's Grandpa Rome? Like the ROME? I turn shocked eyes towards Rome. Yes, I can definitely see the resemblance between him and Italy now. Still not sure how that relationship works though. "But you still need to get ready before the banquet tonight, so no one should be disturbing you," China finishes and fixes me with a pointed glare. Completely uncertain as to what to say I keep my mouth shout and give China a look that I hope is apologetic.

"I'm very sorry that she has disturbed you," China says stepping forward and grabbing my wrist. "I'll make sure that it doesn't happen again." And then China begins to drag me down the walkway back the way I came away from Rome and the…uh…Romans.

"Goodbye, bella ragazza! I hope I get the pleasure of seeing you again!" Rome calls after us, waving cheerfully to me. China pulls me around a corner before I can wave back.

"Are you new or something?" China asks me suddenly after several moments of tense silence.

"I-I guess."

"What's your name?"

"J-Jordan."

China glances at me over his shoulder as though he's inspecting me. He then faces forward again with a small, 'hmph!'. I frown at the back of China's head. What was that about it?

Finally China comes to a stop in front of a massive wooden door. Two guards, similarly dressed to China but holding spears, stand on either side of the door. China releases my wrist in order to place his hands on his hips again. "You two!" Both men snap to attention and reply with crisp a 'Yes sir!'. The sound of their voices makes me do a double take, however. Both men are clearly fully grown and yet their voices are so high. They sound like kids.

China begins to berate the two men- guards really because it's pretty obvious that's what they're doing with the spears- about letting me wander freely. My mind begins to wander as China's lecture drags on. I can't help but wonder where exactly I am. Its' pretty obvious that whoever built this place is pretty rich. Some kind of noble's house or something? Or could it be the emperor's palace? Nah…there's no way.

My attention is drawn back to reality by the sound of the massive doors creaking open. "Now Jordan," China says sternly, turning to me. "You are not to go wandering around anymore without permission, understand?"

"Uh, sure," I reply before China suddenly pushes me through the doorway. I stumble forward and by the time I turn around the doors have already closed. Again. Seems like a bad habit.

Looking forward again I see that I am on the edge of another massive and lavishly gardened courtyard. Again there are doors set all around the walkway, but this one isn't empty. All around the walkway are women. Young women, old women, pretty women, ugly women. Women playing instruments, women sipping tea, women playing games out in the garden or admiring the flowers. There are also quite a few small children as well as more men who seem to be serving the women. And everyone- and I mean EVERYONE- has stopped whatever they are doing and turned to stare at me.

I am instantly so uncomfortable that it feels like I'm suffocating. I'm no good with public speaking or anything else that requires standing up by myself in front of large groups of people. "Um…h-hello?"

…

Well it's official. I am currently more humiliated than I've ever been in my entire life and probably will be again. Why? Well, it's got a lot to do with where China ended up taking me.

It turns out that all those women in that courtyard were concubines. That's right, China shoved me into the emperor of China's personal harem. All those children were fathered by the emperor with said concubines. And the guards with the voices that were way too high for grown men? They're eunuchs whose duty is to guard and serve the emperor's harem. And now I am, apparently, an official member of the harem. That's right. They think I'm emperor's newest concubine.

China is a dead man when I get home.

I suppose there may be one teensy-tiny benefit to this whole clusterfuck that I've ended up in. Tonight there's a massive banquet in order to celebrate the arrival of the Roman envoy- hence why I ran into Rome earlier- and as I member of the imperial harem I get to participate. Which is why I am now dressed in multiple layers of beautiful and extremely fancy looking silk robes and sitting on a pile of cushions on the edge of yet another massive courtyard.

This courtyard is completely paved with stones, however. A plethora of torches and hanging lanterns illuminates it, but not so brightly that you can't see the stars shining in the clear night sky. People dressed in robes just as rich as mine mill about the outside of the courtyard, chatting and looking around as if they're waiting for something. Across the way the Romans are escorted to a pile of cushions near the massive chair that can only be described as a throne. They're now dressed in fancy looking togas. Rome catches my eye and blows me a kiss across the courtyard and I feel my face heat up.

Suddenly a gong sounds somewhere from deep within the building behind the throne. Almost instantly everyone in the courtyard quiets down and settles in their seats. The doors to the massive building open and a very official looking man scurries out. "Emperor Huan of Han!" the man cries, his voice echoing through the courtyard.

I look on with interest as another man moves out into the courtyard and towards the throne. "Don't just stare at him like that!" one of the women behind me hisses. I whip around to stare at her in confusion. "They'll execute you if they catch you," she continues, glaring at me. What the freaking hell? Thoroughly alarmed, I turn back and keep my eyes down, watching the emperor through my lashes. He is a large, soft-bellied man in his mid-thirties. Everything about him says that he has led a pampered life as he settles onto his throne. I can't say that there's much about him that would endear him to me. Please let me get out of here before I have to, uh, fulfill my duties as his consort.

The official begins to announce other members of the emperor's family as they emerge from the building. The dowager empress, his mother. Three daughters. But, no empress I notice with interest. Shouldn't he be married? The last person out of the building is China himself, though the official doesn't announce him. China settles himself to one side of the emperor's throne and the official goes back into the building, the doors closing behind him.

Everything is quiet for a long moment and then the emperor rises to his feet. "This banquet tonight is for our guests from the far, far west," he begins, his voice somewhat nasal. "I happily welcome all of you to my palace and hope that your journey here can be productive. For now though eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves," the emperor finishes, inclining his head towards the Romans to his right. Rome nods back.

Another gong sounds from the far side of the courtyard and suddenly the party comes alive. Dancers, musicians, and acrobats stream into the middle of the courtyard and begin to perform. Servants, probably eunuchs, appear all around the walkway bearing platters piled high with food and drink. It's overwhelming as everyone begins to move again, mixing and talking with one another.

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable again I stay put, snatching tidbits of this and that as the eunuchs with the platters walk by. If there's one thing I can say about Ancient China it's that the food is amazing. I'm just starting to feel lonely when one of the concubines that I vaguely remember seeing earlier sits down next to me. "Hi!" she says cheerfully, taking a swig from whatever she's drinking. It smells noticeably alcoholic. "You're the new girl, right? I'm Meili."

"Jordan," I respond a bit warily.

Meili smiles. "It's nice to meet you. You don't have to look so worried, you know. This is a pretty easy life." Feeling slightly more reassured- she doesn't seem like she's going to try to get me in trouble or anything- I smile back. We begin to chat a bit and I quickly realize that I really don't want to be here any longer than necessary. Now matter how 'easy' being a concubine might be.

But Meili's talkativeness gives me the opportunity to ask some questions that I've been wondering about. "So they announced the emperor and all his family members, but I didn't hear anything about an empress. Isn't he married?"

Meili smirks eagerly before glancing around to check that no one is listening to us. "Didn't you hear about the last one?" she then whispers to me conspiratorially. I shake my head. There was more than one? "Well he locked her up because she kept arguing with his favorite consort, Guo, and she died because she was so angry!"

I blink at Meili in shock. She can't be serious can she? I'm pretty sure she is though with the way her eyes are shining with excitement. Clearly she's into gossip. But I suppose when you live a pampered life as the emperor's consort court intrigue probably is the most exciting thing that happens. "Well…I mean is he going to pick another one or something?"

At this Meili giggles. "That's the big problem right now. He wants to make Tian Sheng empress," she says pointing to a beautiful woman on the far side of the courtyard chatting with another group of women. "But all the officials don't like her because she's a commoner. They want him to pick Dou Miao." Meili then points to a different woman seated in a ring of official looking men. She's a bit younger than Tian Sheng and very pretty. "It's created quite the uproar recently," Meili finishes, looking quite pleased about the whole thing.

Interesting. Power plays in Ancient China's imperial court, huh? Well at least this trip back in history hasn't been boring.

…

By the time the emperor's big banquet wraps up it's late. Really late. And I'm tired. As I fall in with all the other consorts while the eunuchs herd us back to our own little palace I begin to wonder when China is going to come and get me. I'm pretty sure I've learned enough to write my stupid little paper now.

I am completely distracted, however, as I catch the hushed conversation behind me. "So is everything ready for tonight?" Glancing back over my shoulder I see that Tian Sheng is the one speaking.

"Yes," one of eunuchs whispers back to her, his high voice distinctive.

"Perfect," Tian Sheng replies, smiling nastily. "Just make sure that you wait to kill the emperor until I am in place. It will be perfect. We'll take that fool out and blame it on those foreigners." That freezes me in place. That crazy bitch is plotting to kill the emperor! Courtly intrigue might be an understatement here.

"Tian Sheng." An armed man stands at the far end of the walkway we have just walked down. "The emperor requests that you join him tonight."

"Of course," Tian Sheng responds graciously. She sweeps off towards the man, but not before throwing her eunuch accomplice a nasty smirk. I hurriedly turn away as the eunuch begins to follow the rest of us again.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. This isn't any of my business. This _really_ isn't any of my business. I mean, who cares if some emperor dies in Ancient China? There's not anything I can do about it right? I mean what if doing something changed history and I messed up the future or something? Hold on…does it even work like that? Before I can get lost in calculations that will probably give me a headache I mentally slap myself. That's definitely not important right now. What is important is that there's a plot against the emperor and I know about it. So I should warn someone. Right? That seems like the responsible thing to do. Now I just need to figure out who. Oh. China. Duh. He's freaking China, I'm sure he can stop it.

Going to warn China actually turns about to be a bit of a problem. The eunuchs watch us concubines like hawks, so I'm just barely able to slip away as they herd us all back into our little complex. And then of course it's a matter of finding him. Well I haven't had a hard time finding a country in their history so far, so I set off down a random walkway, hoping that I'll run into China eventually.

At first I sneak around, trying not to be seen. But at this time of night there aren't many people around, apparently, so I decide that being sneaky is a waste of time. I mean they think I'm one of the emperor's concubine's right? They seem to have some kind of authority. So I begin to walk down the halls like I own the place. And it works because the few servants I do see don't say anything. Now I just need to find China.

I come upon him eventually. He is just closing a door on the inside of one of the many courtyards, saying goodnight to who ever is inside. "Psst! China!" I hiss at him from behind a pillar.

China starts and looks around wildly before spotting me. Instantly his face contorts into a stern frown. "Jordan! Again? What did I tell you about sneaking around where you're not supposed to be?" he chastises as he approaches. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"Yea, yea I know, but I don't think my misbehavior is all that important right now. There's a plot to kill the emperor!" I feel heartened as China's frown becomes less severe and he gives me an 'I'm listening' look. "It's that woman TIan Sheng. I overheard her talking to one of the eunuchs on the way back after the banquet. And they're gonna blame it on the Romans."

China's brows knit together as he considers me carefully. Suddenly he turns his back on me and I flinch backwards in surprise. "Don't be ridiculous," China tells me flippantly. "That would never happen. Now go back before I'm forced to get you into trouble.

All I can do is gape at China's back for a moment as he walks away. "But…But…!" China waves his hand in my direction, shooing me back the way I came, but doesn't stop. By the time he rounds the corner at the end of the hallway and disappears I am livid. Freaking idiot! Fine! If he won't do anything, I will!

…

Jeez, I'm an idiot. Like, seriously, what the hell is wrong with me? I can't convince China that the emperor is gonna get killed so I have to do something about it? Like what? I definitely think it's time to start questioning my sanity again.

I'm crouched in the shadow of one of the pillars that supports the roof of the building that sits closest to the gate to the emperor's complex. Where the emperor actually lives is separate from the rest of his palace and is surrounded by a high wall and lots and lots of armed guards. I honestly don't know what I was thinking, but here I am, waiting in the hopes that I'll somehow be able to foil that crazy Tian Sheng's plot.

It's very dark out with the only light being from the moon and flickering torches. But it's also very quiet, so when I hear the footfall to my left it's so loud it makes me jump. Squinting in the darkness I can just make out a male figure standing in the shadow of the pillars. As he steps out into the light I recognize him as the eunuch that Tian Sheng was talking to before. Oh shit. The game is really on.

The eunuch crosses the space in front of me until he is halted by the guards outside the gate to the emperor's complex. They talk, briefly, but I can't quite hear what they're saying with the distance being so great. But I recognize instantly when the two guards move to open the door. "Wait!" I yell, running forward out into the open space. "He's going to kill the emperor!"

I've gotten just close enough to see their faces when the eunuch suddenly turns on the guards and, drawing a sword out from underneath his robe, cuts them both down. I stumble to a halt as the eunuch turns towards me, anger filling every line on his face. But it's not him I'm looking at. Behind him lay the two guards, their faces pale in the dim light as they take their last, ragged breaths, their faces contorted in pain. Around them a dark pool of blood grows. It's impossible for me to draw my eyes away from them.

It's my fault. I called the eunuch out. And he just turned around and killed those guards. They're dead and it's _my _fault.

The eunuch advances towards me, yelling angrily at me as a sudden commotion explodes inside the walls of the emperor's complex. But I don't hear any of it. I'm frozen to the spot, my horror at what has just happened keeping me in place. I can't even summon the presence of mind to scream as the eunuch advances on me, sword raised to kill me as well.

Suddenly there is a blur in front of me and a loud 'oompf' from the eunuch as he collapses to the ground some distance away, completely unconscious. Snapped out of my trance I glance down to see China crouched before me in some kind of fighting stance. "C-China?" I manage to croak, my voice cracking slightly.

China straightens and fixes me with an annoyed glare. "What're are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to go back?"

"B-but…but…you seemed like you weren't going to do anything…" I protest weakly.

"Of course I was!" I China snaps. "It's not something you needed to be involved in, stupid woman!"

Indignation gives me some of my spirit back. "Well you could have told me that before!" I growl back at China.

"Well this is certainly most troublesome." China and I both jump and he grabs me and pushes me behind him as we both whirl around. Behind us, coming out the shadows is a large group of men, probably all eunuchs, dressed in tunics that greatly resemble the Roman ones. They're all carrying a multitude of very sharp looking weapons. The eunuch who spoke before shrugs and continues, "I suppose we'll just have to take care of you to now and sort out the consequences later." He then draws his sword, the men behind him following suit.

"Um…China…" I say nervously as we slowly back away from the advancing group.

"Don't worry. Just stay behind me. I will take care of this."

The leader of eunuchs must have heard him because he suddenly sneers and charges. China rushes forward as well and with a fierce cry he begins to fight. I watch, in awe, as China throws a flurry of kicks and punches, ducking and dodging the weapons that swing at him from all directions. China's using kung fu- like the stuff you see in the movies, but way more intense- and to be perfectly honest it's freaking awesome. He's taking all those guys on single handedly. The attacking men are using it too, but it's obvious that they are far outmatched in skill. But there's a lot more of them. They just seem to keep coming,

I'm starting to get worried about China being overwhelmed when another battle cry echoes from the back of our group of attackers. China throws his latest opponent over his shoulder and straightens, looking just as confused as I feel. It takes a moment, but suddenly the commotion from the back of the group spills out in front of us in the form of the Romans cutting down the eunuchs with military precision. "Rome?" China exclaims in shock.

"Hello~!" Rome says cheerfully as he deflects a sword blow from one of the eunuchs.

"What are you doing here?" China asks, gaping.

"Us?" Rome laughs. "Well we figured you could use some help!"

"But…but…How did you know?"

Rome laughs again. "Romans always know when something big like this will happen! We can sense it in the air! Now you and that bella ragazza go save your emperor. We will deal with these idioti." By the end of his little speech Rome's grin is nearly predatory. He winks at me before turning back and focusing on the fight.

China stands there gaping for another moment before he spins around and races for the gate, grabbing my hand and dragging me along as he runs by. China stops at the foot of the gate. "Let us in!" he shouts towards the top of the wall.

"No!" someone on the wall yells back. "We will not open the gate until this is over by order of the emperor!"

"Damn it!" China curses, before dragging me to the right along the side of the wall.

'Where are we going?" I ask, nearly tripping over the hem of one of the many robes I'm wearing.

"Tian Sheng is already inside, yes? The emperor is still in danger! We need to find a way in!" China drags me a long way around the wall of the emperor's massive complex. Finally, towards the back, we stop at the base of one of the pillars holding up the decorative roof that lines the outside of the wall.

"Now what?" I ask China, gasping as I try to catch my breath. I'm jealous that China doesn't seem winded at all.

"We're going to sneak in."

"Sneak in? How?" In response China points to the pillar in front of us. I gape in shock. "What, we're going to climb it?"

"Do you have any better ideas?"

I shake my head 'no' and then look back at the pillar. I'm pretty athletic, but there's no way that I could climb it and then pull myself over the edge of the roof and onto the wall. "I'm sorry, I can't."

"Then I will carry you."

"What?"

China turns his back to me and squats down, holding his arms out behind him like he's inviting me for a piggyback ride. "Hurry up," he orders over his shoulder at me.

All I can do for a moment is stare. Seriously? _Seriously?_ We can't come up with any better ideas than this? But time is of the essence…and I've come this far…I'm eerily reminded of my experience with Britain in the tomb in Egypt. That's what does it for me. If I could do that then, damn it, I can do this!

New determination fills my body and I grab the sash around my waist and untie it. China catches what I'm doing out of the corner of his eye. "What are you doing?" he exclaims, sounding alarmed.

I throw him a frown as I shed the first layer of my robes. "Well I can't really hold on to you if I'm wearing all this stupid clothing."

"But it's indecent!" China exclaims, turning his face away but not before I catch the blush spreading across his cheeks.

Suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed myself, I struggle my way out of another layer. "Chill out. It's not like I'm going to be naked or anything," I grumble.

China's only response is to mutter angrily under his breath. Finally I'm down to the last layer, a single robe in a pretty light blue. I tighten the sash around my waist and step forward so that I'm right behind China. Reaching down I wrap my arms carefully around his neck. China stands slowly, grabbing underneath my knees as he does so. He adjusts my position once, bumping me up a bit higher on his back, and then lets go. I wrap my legs as securely around his waist as I can, locking my ankles together and praying that it will be enough to keep me in place.

"Are you ready?" China asks, glancing back at me where my cheek rests against his ear. I'm a bit bemused to see that he is still blushing.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I murmur back, suddenly nervous as I realize the gravity of what exactly we're about to do.

"Ok," China replies decisively, stepping up to the pillar and wrapping his arms around it. The whole world seems to lurch as China heaves us up the first couple of feet. I gasp, close my eyes, and tighten my grip on China as fear starts to wriggle its way into my stomach. I don't like this. I _really_ don't like this. I'm not a huge fan of heights- I'm not terrified of them or anything- but it's a whole different story when the only thing keeping me from falling is the fact that I'm clinging to someone's back.

Like Japan, China is kind of on the small side in comparison to the other countries. He's just a hair's breadth taller than me and is definitely scrawny in comparison to, say, Germany or America. But despite his appearances China is as solid as a rock underneath the baggy clothes he wears. I can feel his muscles flexing as he climbs, face contorted in concentration. With my eyes closed and my face buried against the back of his neck the feel of his muscles moving as he climbs becomes the only thing I can concentrate on. I feel a hot blush rising on my face, my whole body suddenly feeling alive as I press my front against his back.

Suddenly we shift from being vertical to horizontal and I let out a little scream of surprise as I feel my grip slip a bit. I tighten back up instantly. "Jordan…you're choking me," China manages to say as we hang upside down, awkwardly wedged between the wall and the bottom of the roof.

"I'm s-sorry," I reply, my voice trembling. I loosen my grip on China's neck a bit and he sighs in relief before swinging us up and over the edge of the roof with an athleticism I didn't know was possible. China crawls up the last couple of feet to the top of the roof and collapses over the side onto the top of the wall. I roll off his back and onto my own. We both lay still for a moment, trying to catch our breaths and calm our nerves.

Finally China props himself back up onto his hands and knees. "Are you alright?" he asks.

"I'll live as long we don't have to do that again," I reply, my face still flushed.

"Yes I'd prefer that as well," he says, refusing to make eye contact with me, his face still a bit pink. "Come on." China stands and offers me a hand. I take it and he pulls me to my feet and, without releasing it, begins to run down the wall towards the back of the compound. I don't fight being dragged this time and do my best to keep up.

I'm just about to ask China where we're going when a commotion down on the ground catches our attention. The last and largest building is surrounded by armed guards. They're carrying what appears to be a pillar that they have turned into a makeshift battering ram, trying to knock the heavy wooden doors open. "What's happening?" I ask China, a bit breathless after running.

"Tian Sheng must have barricaded the door," China says, frowning. "She really is serious. We must find another way in." We begin to run again, circling the building from the top of the wall. All the large windows are covered with heavy wooden shutters, just like how all the doors are shut tight. Finally China comes to a stop again at the back of the complex where an elaborate garden, even more beautiful than the other ones I've seen, fills the space between the building and the wall.

"What're you doing?" I ask in surprise as China begins to untie his own sash.

China looks over his shoulder at me and considers me carefully before grinning at me in a way that could be described as mischievous. "We're going to break in." He then sits down on the edge of the wall and wraps his sash around a rope that is fastened to the wall beneath our feet as well as to the wall above one of the windows on the building. Flags and unlit lanterns hang from the rope, clearly intended to add ambience to the garden when they're lit.

"Oh no. No way in hell," I begin, backing away until I run out of wall. China wants to slide down the rope in order to bust in through the window. Another freaking movie reference? What the hell?

"Don't tell me you're going to chicken out now," China replies, sounding disapproving. "Come, we don't have a lot of time."

I swallow nervously and then steel myself. Fine. He's right. If we didn't die climbing the wall then doing this should be fine. Right? As long as the rope can support our weight…Well they did it Mulan. And that's a Disney movie!

Still terrified, I step forward and sit down right behind China, wrapping my arms and legs around him again. My blush rises almost instantly. "Are you ready?" China asks.

"No."

"Good!" And then he pushes off from the wall. This time I can't help but scream as we drop down a good five feet before the rope catches our weight. For one brief second I'm certain that the rope won't hold and that we'll plunge to our deaths, but it does and we begin to slide, gathering speed quickly. It's exactly like being on that zip line in Puerto Rico that I rode on our family vacation a few years ago as we fly forward, the air whipping past blowing my China's ponytail into my face. I crack my eyes open to see us approaching the barred windows at an alarming speed. China raises both of his legs up and I scream again as he feet collide with the shutters. The shutters give way and we both tumble into the building.

I roll to an unceremonious stop sprawled out on the floor, but China rolls and comes up, catlike, balanced on the balls of his feet. Slightly dizzy I prop myself up on one arm and look around. We are in a lavishly appointed room that I can only guess is a bedroom. In one corner stands a shocked looking Tian Sheng holding an elaborately decorated knife to the throat of the terrified emperor.

"Tian Sheng!" China shouts, standing upright. "Put down the knife and give yourself up!"

Tian Sheng recovers quickly. "Never!" she hisses angrily, taking a step back and drawing the emperor back with her. She presses the knife into his throat even more, drawing a trickle of blood. The emperor whimpers fearfully. "Never!" she says again, her voice rising. "I should be empress not that bitch Dou Miao! But once I kill the emperor it won't matter, because everyone knows he favors me! I'll be the one with the power then!" An insane glint has filled the woman's eyes.

"Tian Sheng," China says calmly, but his eyes are very hard. "This is treason!"

"Shut up!" Tian Sheng screeches, pulling the emperor back another step.

Crap, this isn't good. Obviously we can't save the emperor if that crazy woman is holding him hostage. China shifts uncertainly, trying to decide whether or not he should make a move, but Tian Sheng only presses the knife harder against the emperor's throat, drawing more blood. I need to do something…I roll over onto my stomach and look around. There! I scramble to my feet and make for a decorative vase filled with flowers sitting on a small side table. Everyone else in the room ignores me. "Hey! Tian Sheng!" I shout. I throw the vase her way as hard as I can.

The woman's eyes flicker towards me and instantly fill with rage. My aim is true, however, and Tian Sheng is forced to duck in order to avoid being brained by the vase. "You!" she screeches. "You're that little-!" Tian Sheng never gets to finish her sentence as China's foot connects with her chest in a flying kick. Tian Sheng is knocked backwards, collides with the wall behind her, and is knocked unconscious. The emperor, now safe, collapses and begins to cry.

China looks over at me. "That was clever. But you could have gotten the emperor killed. Don't do it again," he tells me sternly.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "You're welcome," I mutter under my breath. As China begins to help the emperor up I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning around I see China standing in front of an open door that leads back into the globe.

"It's time to go back," the current China tells me cheerfully. He then heads through the door. I glance back at the old China and the emperor one last time and shake my head as I move towards the open doorway. Are all my trips back into history going to be this crazy? You know, I'm not entirely sure I want an answer to that.

…

As I step back into my closet I'm surprised to see Japan standing beside China. I give him a questioning look, but he just shrugs. "I was curious to see how it went," he says by way of explanation.

"Yes, how was it?" China asks eagerly. "It was amazing, yes?"

"Well that's one word for it…" My earlier irritation comes back in a sudden surge. "Just promise me that you won't stick me in the emperor's harem next time, ok?" I ask China, giving him a fierce glare.

"China, you didn't!" Japan exclaims sounding scandalized.

It's China's turn to shrug as he raises his hands, the loose ends of his sleeves flapping. "What? It got you into everything important didn't it?"

"That's not the point!" Japan tells him angrily. "That's inappropriate!" I sigh as Japan begins to lecture China. China doesn't seem bothered, his pleased smile not dropping in the least.

As awful as it was in some ways, Ancient China really was amazing. It seriously was. But just like last time it was ridiculously dangerous and I almost got killed. It creates a weird sort of dichotomy inside me. Part of me never wants to go back into one of the country's histories again. Not if there's always the chance I'm going to be killed and I'm going to have to watch other people die. But the other half of me absolutely loves it. The adventure, the excitement. It's like being the hero in a movie and there is absolutely no way that I'll ever get to experience stuff like that anywhere else. I'm honestly not sure what to think anymore. But if I'm being perfectly honest with myself I can't wait to do it again.

Regardless, it was another adventure into history just to write my stupid little weekly history paper. Over achiever much? Yea, I think I can stop questioning it now…I'm definitely crazy.

**Author's Note**

Long chapter is REALLY long. Like seriously, this thing is 20 pages in my word document. Not only is that ridiculous, but it's also the longest chapter I've every written for a story. And it was kinda hard to write too mainly because China is kinda hard to write. He really isn't in the anime that much, but when he is he's kinda bipolar. Which is why my China is bipolar. Oh well. I did have fun writing the chapter though. I did A LOT of research for it, but that's ok because I learned a lot. And I know it got kinda crazy at the end, but it's an adventure story so it's kinda supposed to be like that. And there wasn't _a_ _lot_ of kung-fu fighting, I know, but I just had to use that title. Also I'm sure you noticed the whole thing with Jordan not understanding Latin. I've come up with two rules regarding that: 1. Jordan can understand the language of whatever country's history she's in. 2. Other languages that she hears that are not spoken in that country she can't understand (hence the Latin in this chapter and the Arabic in chapter 3). The one exception to this is that she can always understand English within reason (no one's really going to understand old English very well just off the top of their heads so that follows rule 1).

History Time!: So the Hand Dynasty existed in China from 206 BC to 220 AD with a brief break in between for this other random dynasty. The first haldf was called the Western Han (based on the location of the capital) and the second half was the Eastern Han, which is where Jordan went. And it seriously was awesome. They had all kinds of technology and cultural stuff that was really advanced for being 2000 years ago. Also there really was a Roman envoy that came to China in 166 AD, though there's debate about whether it was official or just merchants (but I saw that and was like ROME MUST HAVE A CAMEO!). Also Emperor Huan, Tian Sheng, and Dou Miao were all real people. The emperor's last wife was imprisoned for arguing with his favorite consort and then died. And he really did want to make Tian Sheng the next empress, but ended up picking Dou Miao because of official pressure (Though it was actually in 165 AD not 166. But it's my story so I messed with the timeline a bit.) Eunuchs began to play a large role in court politics by the end of the Eastern Han and helped contribute to its decline. The whole plot to kill the emperor was completely fabricated by me, however. As far as I know anyways.

11 reviews? **11**? *dances* No but seriously I'm really, really happy about that. I'm so glad that there are so many people who are enjoying this story! THANK YOU Hiatsu, Pain and Betrayal, chipisvanna, Stella laLuna, mosinger, Atama Ga Kuru Teru, Piyo13, HannajimaShields, raewhit, Sora'struelover, and Rinny009! You're all freaking AWESOME! *America style fist pump*

So I just want to thank the few of you that responded to my questions last time. Apparently most people don't read the author's note all the way to the end. Yea, I know it's long, but there's important stuff! Anyways, your input was great and I now know what I'm going to do about the whole kissing Jordan thing. Which will be revealed at a later date (but seriously I'm pretty excited about it). Also this is the last week of my training class *more dancing* so I'll have more free time soon! Yay!

Thanks for reading all the way to the end!

imagination junkie


	6. Vikings Do It at a Thing?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or certain idea's from Atama Ga Kuru Teru's story 'World is Ours', but I do own my characters and this plot.

**Chapter 6: Vikings Do It at a Thing?**

"Duuude, I don't know what to get!" America whines.

"Well, it's all pretty good," Aaron shrugs nonchalantly.

"He's right, man," Danny says enthusiastically. "There's the General Tsao's chicken, and the mu shu, and the sweet and sour pork, and the fried rice, and…seriously you can't go wrong!"

"Awww man…I don't know what to do! It all looks so good! Wait, I know! I'll just order all of it!"

"Order all of it?" Britain exclaims, aghast. "Don't be such a git America, you can't possibly eat everything on the menu."

"Ve~! I wouldn't be too sure Britain!"

"You know…" Japan says suddenly, filling the brief silence that Italy's pronouncement causes. "Something about this menu doesn't seem quite right."

Germany picks the Chinese take-out menu up off the table and examines it closely. "Ja, I think you're right, Japan. The food doesn't seem quite…Chinese exactly."

"Don't be ridiculous!" America shouts, snatching the menu back from Germany. "Of course it's Chinese food! This is America! Our Chinese food is more than authentic than China's!"

"Seriously?" I ask, exasperated. "Surely you're not talking about the Chinese food that's been so bastardized that Chinese people don't even recognize it anymore?"

"Jordan! You can't say that!" America exclaims, slightly panicky, as he slaps a hand over my mouth. "It's un-American!"

"She's got a point though…" Danny says thoughtfully.

"No! Danny! Not you too!"

I take advantage of America's distraction and pull his hand off my mouth. Stepping away I put my hands on my hips and fix America with a scowl. "Since when is telling the truth un-American?"

"I…I didn't say that," America says, refusing to make eye contact with me and shifting uncomfortably. Behind him Britain looks like he's trying really hard not to burst out laughing.

I make a noise of disbelief in the back of my throat. But before I can say anything else China's voice comes from behind us. "What is everyone doing?"

We all turn to look at him. He's watching us with a curious look on his face. Italy scoops up the menu from where it lays forgotten on the table and bounces forward. "We're ordering Chinese food, ve! Do you want some?"

"Chinese food! How wonderful!" China exclaims, practically ripping the menu from Italy's grasp.

As he begins to read it his face darkens, his eyebrows furrowing together to form a deep scowl. Out of the corner of my eye I see Britain slowly edging away from the table, a worried look on his face, while Japan mutters something that sounds a lot like, "Here we go again."

"This…_this_…" I see why Britain looks so alarmed as China's face suddenly turns red. His hands are beginning to shake, the menu rustling madly.

"It's awesome isn't it?" America asks proudly. I shoot him a look of disbelief. Is he really this bad at sensing the mood?

"This is a disgrace!" China shouts, finally exploding. "This is not Chinese food! Dishonor! _Dishonor_!" China then spins around and stalks back towards my bedroom, screaming profanities in Chinese. He grabs my bedroom door and wrenches it open. I catch a glimpse of what looks like the inside of the globe before China slams the door shut and I glance surreptitiously at Danny and Aaron. Good, it doesn't look like they noticed.

"What…just happened?" America asks, perplexed. Everyone else sighs, glares at him, or, in Britain's case, facepalms.

Suddenly the door to my room slams open again and we all jump. China stalks back out carrying a giant wok, several cooking utensils, and a bag with vegetables sticking out of the top. "What is on that thing," China says haughtily, motioning vulgarly towards the menu where he threw it on the floor. "Is _not_ real Chinese food. _I _will show you the true culinary art of Chinese cooking." His little speech finished, China heads into the kitchen and begins unpacking.

"Dude, I love Chinese food! Let me help!" America exclaims enthusiastically. Before he can even step one foot inside the kitchen, however, China brings the wok crashing down on his head. Hard.

America yelps loudly and staggers away, ultimately tripping over his own feet and falling on his ass. "Dude! That hurt! Not cool!" he says, finally sounding annoyed.

"I do not want your help!" China snarls at America. "You are the one who ruined Chinese food in the first place! So stay out of my way!" China turns back to his food preparation, leaving America gaping.

As China begins to bang loudly and angrily about in the kitchen everyone else scatters. Germany grabs the back of Italy's shirt and drags him out the front door with Japan close on their heals. Aaron disappears upstairs while Danny plops down on the couch and flicks the TV on, turning it way up in an attempt to drown out the noise from the kitchen.

Britain approaches America and looks sternly down at him. "Now look what you've done, you bloody fool. You've gone and made China mad and it's going to take forever to calm him down again."

"That's whack," America replies, poking the spot where China got him with the wok and wincing. "You make it sound like it's my fault."

"That's because it _is_ your fault!"

"Dude! No way are you blaming this one on me!"

I sigh and turn away as Britain and America begin to argue. Danny turns the TV up again now trying to drown out China _and _Britain and America. Good luck with that one. I head into my room, leaning my back against the door once I've shut it. And straightening again immediately as I catch sight of France standing in front of the mirror attached to my closet door and…plucking his eyebrows?

France turns to me with a brilliant smile and whips the tweezers out of sight so quickly I'm not entirely sure I really saw them. "Jordan, mon chérie. How lovely it is to see you today!"

"Yea…" I say, uncomfortable about the glint in France's eye, as he looks me up and down. I start to shuffle sideways, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. "How come you're in here? Don't you want to taste some of China's cooking?"

My legs hit the edge of my bed and I lose my balance, falling down into a sitting position. France smirks lightly and follows me, sitting down way too close for comfort. I feel my face begin to heat up as he tries to capture my gaze, but I purposely stop myself from looking at him. Instead I scoot away as sneakily as I can.

"No, chérie," France practically purrs, scooting after me. "I just know better than to get in his way when's he's having a tantrum. And what about you? I suppose you'll need something to occupy your time while you wait for dinner to be ready, oui? Good thing I know the perfect _activité."_

France leans in and I lean away, trying desperately to keep him from getting too close. He is smilingly seductively at me, his gaze confident. This bad. Very, very bad. If I don't get away from him who knows what I'm going to end up doing. But, if I'm being honest with myself, some part of me doesn't want to get away. That part of me finds his gaze positively…intoxicating. Before I can get lost in that strange spell that all the nations seem to have over me, my fingers bump into something on my bed. Glancing over my shoulder I see that's my history textbook. Hallelujah, I'm saved!

"Actually there's something I think you can help me with," I tell France hurriedly. He pulls back looking slightly disappointed, but motions for me to continue. "See, I was reading about Vikings in my history book earlier today, but I'm still kind of confused. I'm not really sure who to ask for help clearing it up, though. Do you know who would be the best to ask?"

I wait, praying, as France considers my plea for help. Finally he stands. "Of course chérie. It will take but a moment." He reaches out into the empty air and pulls a door open. "Just wait here. I'll be right back," he says, throwing me a wink over his shoulder before he pulls the door shut behind him.

I collapse backwards on my bed and breathe a sigh of relief. That was _way_ too close. True to his word, however, it's only a few minutes before France opens the door again and beckons me into the globe. Stepping in behind him I am surprised to find myself back in the conference room facing a line of five handsome men, all with varying shades of blond hair.

"You said you wanted to know about Vikings, Jordan," France says, flipping his own blond hair self-importantly. "So I've brought the Nordics. I'm sure they will be able to help you, chérie."

I turn back to the five men in front of me, bemused. The Nordics?

"You're Jordan, right? It's nice to finally meet you! I'm Finland," the one farthest to my right says. He has kind brown eyes, bright blond hair, and is smilingly warmly at me.

The man standing next to Finland towers over him. He has light blond hair, blue eyes, and is wearing glasses. He is scowling lightly and something about him just seems intimidating. "Sweden," he grunts, his voice deep.

"I'm Denmark!" the man to Sweden's right says, grinning broadly at me. His eyes are blue as well and his hair is wild, sticking up in all directions.

The next man has pale blonde hair, a little curl like Italy's floating independently of his head off to one side. His eyes are blue, but dull, and his expression is strangely blank. "I am Norway," he tells me tonelessly.

Finland is the only one the last man is taller than. His hair is the palest, bordering on silvery white and he has blue eyes. Probably the most notable thing about him, however, is that there is a puffin with a pink bow tie sitting on his head. "My name is Iceland," he tells me calmly and, embarrassed, I draw my eyes away from the bird nesting in his hair.

Norway gives Iceland a sideways look and then says, just a tonelessly as before, "He's my little brother." Iceland flashes him a brief look of irritation before turning his eyes back to me.

The five of them just stand there staring at me for a moment and the only thing I can thin to do is stare back. Have I mentioned my dislike of speaking in front of people? "I-it's nice to meet you all," I finally manage to say, nervous under their piercing gazes. "So do you think one of you could help me with the Viking thing?"

"Well…" Finland begins apologetically. "My people were never really Vikings, so I don't think I'll be much help."

The other Nordics exchange glances, but Sweden speaks up suddenly. "I can show you."

"Now hold on a second, Sweden!" Denmark suddenly exclaims, pointing a finger into Sweden's face. Sweden's scowl deepens as he glares at the offending digit. "I think my history is much better suited to showing what the Vikings are like!"

Sweden is quiet for a moment. "What makes you say that?"

"That's a good question and, don't worry, I'll tell you!" I watch, dumbfounded, as Denmark begins to energetically prattle off a list of reasons why his Viking history is better than Sweden's. Beside him Norway's expression starts to look slightly irritated while Iceland rolls his eyes. Finland keeps looking worriedly back and forth between Denmark and Sweden.

Finally Denmark finishes, grinning smugly at Sweden. Sweden hasn't moved a muscle during Denmark's entire speech and he doesn't do so now, just simply staring at him passively. Finally, he speaks again. "I disagree." Sweden's expression hasn't changed, but there is now a definite hostile edge in his tone.

"Oh do you now?" Denmark asks, his eyebrows twitching in irritation. Denmark and Sweden begin to argue. Or rather Denmark begins to yell at Sweden and while Sweden takes his chance to make his brief points while Denmark stops to take a breath.

"You two are so childish," Norway says, turning to the two countries beside him. His tone now suggests disapproval, though he's so emotionless it's hard to tell. Denmark starts yelling at him too and soon Norway is also a part of the argument.

Finland is panicky, jumping around the others and trying to make himself heard over the commotion in the hopes of getting the three to stop arguing. Denmark snaps at Finland and Sweden angrily defends him, and poor Finland gets dragged into the argument as well. Iceland is the only one of the five Nordic countries not involved. He sighs heavily and looks away, clearly doing his best to ignore the others.

I turn to France completely bemused. "Is this normal?"

"Unfortunately yes, chérie," France says melodramatically. "There is bad blood between Denmark and Sweden. I'm ashamed to admit that they are my fellow countries when they act like this."

I raise an eyebrow skeptically as this announcement. What's his excuse for arguing with Britain all the time then?

"Excuse me." My eyes are drawn away from France at the sound of Iceland's voice. "I believe that I can help you with your problem Jordan. My history begins with the Vikings. And it's probably best if you don't wait for the rest of them," he adds, throwing a glare at the other four Nordic nations who are still arguing loudly. I agree and follow Iceland and his puffin out of the room. France tags along, apparently having nothing better to do.

…

Iceland doesn't pause as he enters my closest. His puffin flies off his head and over to a section of the rack on the far wall, settling itself on the clothing bar. Iceland follows and begins to look through the garments.

France sighs contentedly as he follows me through the door. "Ah…trés magnifique, oui?"

"Yea…" I muse quietly. I don't think I'll ever get tired of being this room.

"Found it," Iceland calls, beckoning me over. The outfit he presents to me is rather plain compared to what I wore last time. There is long dress in a light brown color with long sleeves and another shorter, sleeve-less dress in yellow over the top. The straps of the yellow dress are fastened together at the top by two large silver broaches, another broach holding the top of the brown dress closed. Strung between the broaches of the yellow dress are beads of glass and amber and other ornamentation. A long woven belt is knotted around the waist of the dresses. There is some pretty embroidery on the hems of the both dresses as well as around the neck. There are also brown leather, ankle high, lace-up boots, several pairs of thick socks, and a thick, dark-brown cloak with another broach to hold it closed. Finally there is a simple white scarf, which I'm guessing is supposed to be used as a head covering.

I take the clothing from Iceland, allowing me to feel the fabric that it's made of. Linen and wool. Again, nowhere near as luxurious as last time, but I suppose that silk robes wouldn't be very practical for a Viking. "Thank you," I tell Iceland and he nods in acknowledgement.

I head over to the changing room and I'm about to shut the door when I realize I'm not alone. "France? What the hell are you doing?"

France grins salaciously as he leans against the doorframe. "I just thought you might need some help, chérie."

"No thank you!" I shout, turning red and shoving France out of the doorframe. As he stumbles backwards I slam the door in his face. Cheeks still burning I change out of my normal clothes and into the Viking outfit. It doesn't look too bad and it's actually fairly comfortable. I add the last touch of pulling my hair back and tying the handkerchief over it before stepping back out into the main room.

The two nations are both waiting for me, the puffin back atop Iceland's head. France grins again as soon as he sees me and claps his hands together. "Beau, Jordan! Though of course not as beautiful as you would look in my wonderful clothes."

"Shut up France," I mutter, embarrassed.

Iceland gives France a tired look before turning to me. "Yes, you look acceptable Jordan. Now please come here." Iceland leads me over to the door of my closest and pulls it open. A cool breeze hits my face and ruffles the hems of my clothing. I think I'm going to be glad I've got this cloak. "I think around 980 will suit your purposes."

I thank Iceland again and step forward into the past and the cool breeze. "Have fun, chérie!" France calls, as the door swings shut behind me.

…

The cold breeze has become a cold wind and I draw the cloak tighter around me, definitely grateful Iceland gave it to me. To say that the landscape is rugged would be a bit of an understatement. A large valley stretches out below me, a large lake and a meandering river taking up large portions of it. In the far distance mountains stretch into the sky, their craggy shapes standing out starkly against the brilliant blue. Behind me there is a sloping hill topped by rocky cliffs and a large rocky outcropping. To my surprise a lot of the land around the lake and river and stretching to the mountains in the distance is covered in thick forest. What isn't forested is sparse grass and bare rock. It's beautiful in a rough, desolate kind of way. The sun is high in the sky and there isn't a hint of snow, so I'm guessing it's probably sometime in the summer.

I'm not alone out here, however. Down on the shore of the lake there is some kind of large settlement with people everywhere. Curious, I head towards the lake, passing groups of picketed horses. As I walk I see a large group of men heading up the way I came towards the cliffs. I'd spend more time wondering about them if there wasn't so much going on around the lake.

Sound and the smells of wood smoke and cooking food engulf me as I enter the settlement. Upon closer inspection the dwellings don't seem to be permanent. They're all quite small with stone bases and large swaths off fabric being used as roofs- they're more like tents than anything. That doesn't seem to bother any of the people, however. There are men and women everywhere, children dashing between legs and around skirts. The atmosphere is festive, with people talking and laughing and eating and drinking around large open fires. There also seems to be a lot of goods changing hands, as there are multiple stalls set up all over the place, with men hawking goods from skins to silk.

When I pictured going back in history to see the Vikings I wasn't sure what to expect, but this definitely wasn't it. Where's all the raiding and pillaging? And the people certainly don't seem like barbarians. There bodies and their hair are clean and they all seem to be very polite and jovial. All the women are dressed in various versions of my outfit, while the men sport tunics and trousers. The weapons that I see hanging from the men's belts- and most men don't seem to be carrying much more than a knife or two- are clean and in good condition. I pause in what seems to be the middle of the settlement completely uncertain as to what to do. Several children run by me as I ponder my predicament. I'm in Viking Iceland in the middle of some kind of fair or something. I wish I knew what was going on.

Suddenly a voice seems to boom all around me. With a yelp I jump and spin around, searching for the source of the voice. Everyone around me quiets down and stops what they're doing to look up at the cliffs in the direction I came from. Squinting I can just make out a group of men- probably the ones I passed on the way down- gathered around the rocky outcropping beneath the cliffs. There is one man standing on top of the outcropping gesturing wildly, and it seems likely that he's the one speaking. I frown, confused as to how his voice is being carried all the way down to the valley floor, until I release that the cliffs behind him must be projecting his voice. Interesting. The man is describing what sounds like a list of punishments for stealing from another man's farm. They sound rather…harsh. So the guy is reciting some kind of legal code?

"You look a bit confused. Did you come with one of the trading ships?" I jump again and look over my shoulder to see Iceland standing behind me. He is dressed like his people, sans puffin. His tunic is a pale blue color that compliments his eyes nicely, his trousers are dark brown, and he wears leather boots that are nearly identical to mine. On his head, instead of the puffin, is a sheepskin hat and he also has an un-dyed cloak fastened loosely about his shoulders.

"Uh, yea," I say, grateful that Iceland has provided my explanation for me. "Could you explain what's going on?"

"Of course. This is the Althing," he says spreading out his hands in a gesture that encompasses the entire encampment.

"The Althing?"

"Yes, just like the things in other lands except that it is open to all the men of this country. That up there is the Law Rock," he continues, nodding his head towards the rocky outcropping on the hill above. "And the man speaking is the lawspeaker. He is reciting the laws of this land for all to hear. Once he is finished with that the law-council will begin."

I blink at Iceland, completely confused. "Law-council?"

Iceland nods. "A council made up of our chieftains. They pass and interpret our laws. They've got several important laws to vote on this year. It should be interesting. Though, of course, that's not the only reason people come to the Althing," he says, gesturing around us again.

All I can do is stare at Iceland, astounded. They've got an assembly where they vote on laws? I mean obviously not everyone in Iceland participating, but the thought still makes my head reel. It's like they've got a parliament or something. I'm definitely never going to consider Vikings barbarians again.

Iceland seems a bit worried as I stare at him wide-eyed. "How about I show you around?" he offers politely.

"Sure," I manage to say.

We begin to explore the Althing. As I woman I'm not allowed up by the Law Rock, but there's more than enough going on down at the lake to occupy our time. Iceland is kind enough to buy me some roasted fish that has come straight out of the lake, but I decline his offer of ale. I don't really want to get drunk here and judging by the way most people are acting after having just one drink I'd say it's a pretty smart move. We wander through the massive camp that's been set up on the lakeshore, picking through all kinds of goods both from traders and made locally. There's exotic fabrics like silk and exquisite broaches, the silver from which is all the way from the Middle East if the traders are to be believed. There's also local fabrics and leather. There is even one man selling hunting falcons that he raised himself. Finally, on the edge of the temporary settlement- the little houses are set up for the length of the Althing as no one permanently lives on the site expect for the ale brewers- we find a group of teenage boys playing a game that Iceland calls knattleikr. After watching for a bit I still can't figure out the rules, beyond that you're supposed to run around and hit a ball with a wooden bat and stop other players from hitting it. Iceland and I move on once the two teams get into an argument over a foul and the game devolves into a fistfight.

All in all I'm amazed. I never would have thought that the Vikings would have something like this. The Althing is a governmental meeting as well as the islands largest social gathering. People are here from all over Iceland to meet and socialize. It's incredible that these people had such a national unity so long ago. I pause briefly and look up at the sky. It's definitely gotten later, but it's impossible to tell how much with the sun so high in the sky. Bringing my eyes back to Earth I see that Iceland is looking over his shoulder at me with slight worry in his eyes. I smile at him in response. This really is an incredible place.

Suddenly a commotion erupts behind us, with men shouting and several women screaming. A crowd is quickly gathering around two men who are shouting at each other. I'm surprised to see that the first man is Denmark, his hair impossible to mistake. He reaches out and grabs the collar of the second, taller man. It takes me a moment to recognize him as Sweden without his glasses.

"That's not a fair price!" Denmark snarls, shaking Sweden's collar. "And you're no man if you think it is!"

"I disagree," Sweden replies tonelessly, his eyes flashing. He grabs Denmark's wrist and yanks it away from his collar, the tension in his hand revealing how tight his grip is.

Iceland sighs and out of the corner of my eye I see him shake his head. "I really should stop allowing them to come to the Althing," I hear him murmur.

"Damn it!" Denmark swears, pulling his wrist from Sweden's grasp. "I've had enough of this shit from you! You're dead!"

Sweden braces himself as Denmark prepares to charge, unsheathing the knife from his belt, but they both pause as a new voice rings out from the edge of the crowd. "Halt! You will not brawl like children here!" The crowd parts, murmuring, to reveal a large group of men. I recognize the voice of the man in front. It's the lawspeaker.

The lawspeaker is a tall, broad man with thick red hair and beard. He glowers contemptuously at Denmark and Sweden as they glare back at him. "You've got no right to interfere here!" Denmark shouts.

"Yes," Sweden adds, his quiet voice like steel. "This is a private matter."

"And yet here you are, prepared to fight in the middle of our Althing. If you wish to duel here than you will do so following our rules," the lawspeaker says, his voice refusing any argument.

"Screw you old man!" Denmark shouts defiantly, turning towards the lawspeaker and brandishing his knife. There is a gasp and a cry of anger from the crowd as the lawspeaker bristles, reaching for his own knife.

As surprised as everyone else I look towards Iceland to find that he is gone. I turn my attention forward again just in time to see him shoot out of the crowd. He is on Denmark in an instant, wrestling him to the ground and burying his knife hilt deep in the earth. "You will not disrespect my people and my laws like this," Iceland hisses to Denmark, cold rage on his face. "If you wish to duel here you will do it by our laws or suffer the consequences."

"Fine," Denmark agrees reluctantly, glaring at Iceland over his shoulder. "I'll do it your way." Iceland looks up at Sweden who is standing calmly off to the side. Sweden nods, apparently in agreement as well.

Iceland steps back allowing Denmark to stand back up. "Prepare for the duel!" Iceland cries.

The atmosphere of the crowd changes, turning from horror and disgust to excitement. The lawspeaker calls for a cloak, though what that has to do with a duel I have absolutely no idea. Denmark beckons to a group of men wearing a variation on the tunic and trousers outfit that is similar to his own. After speaking with him for a bit they run off, disappearing back into the crowd. Sweden does the same with a group of his own people and soon he and Denmark are left alone in the circle in the middle of the eager crowd.

Iceland, his role of law enforcement apparently over for now, returns and stands next to me. "What was that all about?" I ask him, wide eyed.

"They are going to fight for their honor," Iceland tells me. "Denmark insulted Sweden by saying his goods weren't worth their price and that he was trying to cheat him out of his money. Sweden is defending his honor and Denmark is defending his charge."

I gulp as I look to where Denmark and Sweden are glaring at each other from within the circle. Perhaps I reevaluated my opinion of the Vikings too soon. They're definitely not barbarians, but from what I can tell their reputation for bloodthirstiness and a love for battle is well earned. The crowd swells, people beginning to shout, as they grow impatient for the duel to start. About ten minutes later Denmark's and Sweden's men have returned and the lawspeaker has gotten his cloak.

The lawspeaker lays the cloak- it's at least twice as big as the one I'm wearing- out on the ground. "Your duel will take place on this cloak. If either of you steps off it you are a coward and a shame on your fellow man." Denmark and Sweden both step onto the cloak their eyes hard. They accept their weapons from their men- a sword and a round shield for Sweden and an axe with a long shaft wrapped in metal for Denmark. They're also both given helmets, which- I note wryly- are completely devoid of horns. "This duel is to the death," the lawspeaker declares. "But once first blood is drawn you may withdraw by a payment if you wish." Denmark and Sweden nod curtly and the lawspeaker steps back. "Begin!"

The crowd roars as Denmark and Sweden begin to circle each other, both looking for an opening. I can't help but feel a little sick as I watch them make feints towards each other. I feel like I've already seen enough blood and fighting in the countries' histories to last for several lifetimes. And now two of the nations are fighting. They're not human so what if they end up killing each other? Can they even die? All of these thoughts are driven from my head as Denmark suddenly charges with a fierce yell. He swings his axe up and brings it down, but Sweden blocks it with his shield. Deflecting the blow Sweden makes his own attack, stabbing towards Denmark. But Denmark is too quick, dancing out of the way before darting in again to attack.

It goes on like this for several minutes, neither man seeming to gain an advantage. The crowed is working itself up into a frenzy, clamoring for someone to draw blood. I'm just beginning to think that the fight is never going to end when I hear wood splinter. Denmark has managed to break Sweden's shield. Denmark smirks widely, clearly certain he's going to win, until Sweden throws his shield away. Taken off guard Denmark loses his grip on his axe and it goes flying along with the shield. Gasping in shock Denmark does nothing to stop Sweden as he rams into him with his shoulder. Denmark falls and Sweden is standing over him in an instant, the point of his sword resting against Denmark's throat.

Sweden casually flicks his wrist, nicking Denmark's throat and sending several droplets of blood scattering onto the cloak below them. "Do you yield?" Sweden asks, his voice calm despite the vicious battle.

Denmark glares hatefully at Sweden, but finally snarls, "Yes." A massive cheer erupts from the crowd, the circle collapsing in on itself as everyone presses forward to offer Sweden ale or meat or just their congratulations. Denmark's men help him stand and the lawspeaker steps forward to collect his payment for withdrawing from the duel. I silently breathe a sigh of relief, adrenaline draining out of me, as I realize that no one died this time.

"Jordan." I turn, startled, to see the current Iceland standing behind me. Glancing around I see that his Viking self is backing up the lawspeaker. "Would you like to go back now?" Iceland asks.

"Yes, please," I reply. I definitely think I've seen enough of the Vikings for one day.

Iceland leads me through the door and back into my closet where I'm surprised by the conspicuous absence of France and the appearance of an irritable looking China. "There you are!" China exclaims as the door closes behind me. "Hurry up and change, dinner is waiting."

Still feeling a bit out of sorts I don't protest and head back into the changing room, eager to escape China's glare. As soon as I step out again, however, China seizes my hand and drags me towards the closest door. As we pass Iceland he gives me a look that could be called faintly sympathetic. "Thanks for you help!" I tell him as China opens the door and pulls me into my room. China tows me out into the main room before releasing me and disappearing into the kitchen. "Sit down!" he tells me over his shoulder. "You're having _real_ Chinese food tonight!"

China has managed to round up Danny, Aaron, America, Italy, Germany, and Japan as well. They're all seated around the table with everyone except for Japan- who just looks resigned- eyeing the dishes of food placed before them with disquiet. I can't blame them really. It's difficult to tell what's in most of them. While I don't recognize any of it from when I was when China's history, it does smell pretty good at least. I sit down at the table as China reappears carrying a large bowl piled high with rice. "What's everyone waiting for? Eat, eat! Chinese food is delicious!" China is smiling as he encourages us, but there's a manic glint in his eye that is alarming.

There is a brief pause before Japan grabs a plate and begins to serve himself with a soft sigh. Everyone else follows suit, as China looks on, pleased. Soon I find myself with a plate of food with names I don't know and probably couldn't pronounce even if I knew them. Feeling resolute I pick up my chopsticks and awkwardly- I'm not very good with chopsticks- dig in. I mean, if I survived his history, surely I can survive his food, right?

**Author's Note**

…*sigh*. So I know this chapter isn't as awesome as some of the other ones and for that I apologize. I had a really difficult time figuring out what I was going to do in this chapter because there was so much that I could have done. I ended up going with the Althing because I remembered talking about things in the class on Vikings I took in college (The class sucked actually. I think it was mainly because an _African_ anthropologist, whose only qualifications for teaching about Vikings were that he was _Swedish,_ was teaching it. But that's another story…). I always thought it was really cool and it has stuck with me all this time so I just decided to go with that. Also I'm still trying to get the right balance of action/historical accuracy in these chapters. And then there's France. I've been reading a lot more Hetalia stories recently and my France just doesn't seem…pervy enough. So I'm working on that too.

And yes I poked more fun at America/Americans. It's true we bastardize "ethnic" food but that's mainly because Americans wouldn't eat it otherwise. We've been especially bad with Chinese food. That doesn't mean it isn't still delicious of course. And the whole 'telling the truth is un-American' bit isn't really referencing anything. Ok maybe politics (it is an election year), but I'm not being serious. And I'm sure real Chinese food is actually good, but they do but some stuff in it that makes Westerners go 'ew'. And you'll probably see at least Sweden and Finland again at some point. I'm rather found of them. Finland is cute and poor Sweden is sweet, but he's misunderstood. I don't know about the rest of the Nordics though. They're only in like one episode so they're hard to write. Though, I do LOVE Denmark's hair. And I have no idea how far his and Sweden's feud goes back, though I get the feeling that they've never liked each other very much.

History Time!: The Vikings. There is a lot that can be said about the Vikings. So the Vikings were the Norse-speaking peoples of Northern Europe. The Viking Age was the period of their expansion from the 790s to 1066. And they really got around. The Vikings raided and traded into Russia in the East getting as far as Constantinople and the Volga River and they settled Iceland, Greenland, and had a settlement in North America at L'Anse aux Meadows in Newfoundland. They also settled extensively in Great Britain and had some settlements on the northern coast of mainland Europe. The Vikings certainly did a lot of pillaging and raiding, but there was a lot more to their society than that. Women had a lot more control over property and finances than women in a lot of other societies would have for centuries. They were also very concerned with their appearance and cleanliness and, despite popular belief, they did not have horns on their helmets. Things were assemblies where men would meet and make decisions and they were held all over Europe at the time. But the Althing in Iceland was the first national incarnation of the thing and has been held in Iceland since it was established in the 930s. Iceland's modern Parliament is still called the Althing and is considered a direct descent of the Viking one. Finally there was no unifying center for the Vikings. There were lots of little kingdoms and diverse groups, but not a monolithic sense of 'Vikinghood'. Most of the information for this chapter didn't come from Wikipedia, believe it or not. I got it from if you're curious. It's a pretty good website.

…*sigh*. Eight reviews. I know I shouldn't complain, but I guess I was getting kind of spoiled with ten reviews every chapter. Ah well. Anyways please review this chapter even if it's just to tell me that it sucked! And thank you to my lovely reviewers: Rinny009, Hiatsu, Sora'struelover, Akatusukifreak, Atama Ga Kuru Teru, Pain and Betrayal, ShadedEclipse, and torixx3! THANK YOU for your support.

The next chapter should be more fun. And I'm pretty excited to do the next couple history chapters. My update speed will probably slow down a bit though because I'm starting Japanese classes this week. That's right, I'm going to learn Japanese and I'm going to do it by cramming two semesters worth of college classes into 12 weeks. I'm excited, but I'll probably have homework and stuff. And…well I got an idea for another Hetalia fic. And it wouldn't leave me alone. So I started writing it. I really shouldn't try to work on four stories at the same time, but I'm probably going to end up posting it at some point anyways because it's EPIC. And awesome. So yea…

Thanks for reading all the way to the end!

imagination junkie


	7. The Curry Isn't Good Unless You Cry?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or certain idea's from Atama Ga Kuru Teru's story 'World is Ours', but I do own my characters and this plot.

**Chapter 7: The Curry Isn't Good Unless You Cry?**

I hit the channel up button on the remote. And I hit it again. And again. And again. I should have expected this. It's the first time I've gotten to watch TV in days and of course there's nothing good on. Then again there isn't ever anything good on TV on Sunday anyways.

Actually it's kind of amazing that I'm in control of the TV in the first place. There are two reasons. The first is that America isn't here. He dragged Japan off to the convenience store a few blocks away, shouting something about "cultural exchange". Yea, I don't get it either. China went with them too, though I suspect that has more do with his desire to bug Japan than any interest in the Seven-Eleven.

The second reason is that one Danny's frat buddies, Greg, is over. They're currently sitting at the table hunched over Danny's laptop and…giggling? I push myself up from sprawling on the couch to get a better look at them. Yep, definitely giggling.

"This is so funny!" Greg snickers.

"I know, man. Here look at this one. In Soviet Russia dog walks you!" Danny laughs.

"That's hilarious. Oh, look at this one! In Soviet Russia Waldo finds you!" Greg and Danny both crack up.

Great. So they're spending their Sunday afternoon trolling the Internet for the 'in Soviet Russia' meme. A sudden movement I see out of the corner of my eye distracts me. I turn my head just in time to see France sneak around the corner and into the kitchen. Britain's been in there for the past ten minutes or so making tea. I sigh. This isn't going to end well.

As I flop back down on the couch the door to my room opens and Russia steps out, his childish smile curious. Feeling slightly apprehensive all of a sudden- clearly the other nations' paranoia about him is starting to affect me…no, actually, he's just kind of weird- I try to focus back on the television and the commercials that are currently playing. Unfortunately for Danny and Greg, however, they don't notice Russia until it's too late.

"In Soviet Russia road forks you!" Danny and Greg both howl with laughter. Until Russia speaks.

"So you think Soviet Russia is funny, da?" Russia asks, his tone innocent as he cocks his head to the side.

Danny and Greg both whip around and give Russia a 'deer in headlights' look as though they've been caught doing something illegal. "Oh, h-hey Russia. What's up man?" Danny asks, his tone bordering on fearful. Sounds like the rumors about Russia have been getting around to him too.

Russia continues like he didn't hear Danny. "I think that it's maybe because you don't know what Soviet Russia was like, da? That's ok! I show you."

"I think we're good actually. Thanks though!" Greg responds. His face pales and Russia's darkens despite his smile.

"No. I think it's best that you understand what Soviet Russia was really like," Russia replies in singsong.

Russia begins to reach for Danny and Greg and Danny panics. "Run man, run!" he shouts, pushing Greg out of his seat and towards the door. They both scramble to their feet, wrench the door open, and race outside, shouting in terror at the top of their longs. The corners of Russia's mouth curl up in what could be called a devilish smile that makes me shiver as he follows Danny and Greg outside chanting what sounds like 'kolkolkol' under his breath.

Just when I think I can relax there is a crash from the kitchen.

"You bloody frog! Look what you just did!"

"It's not my fault you're so clumsy, Britain."

"Stupid bloody wanker!"

France and Britain begin to fight, their scuffle quickly spilling out into the main room. As I go to turn the volume of the TV up the sound of a trombone being played loudly begins upstairs. Aaron is practicing. I sigh again. I really should have expected this. Just another ordinary day in my life.

Ugh I can't deal with all this stress on top of my schoolwork. Good thing Danny and Greg's escape has given me an idea. I'm going to go for a run. I turn the TV off, stand up decisively, and head towards my room, easily stepping around Britain and France's flailing forms like I've been doing it all my life. Or at least the past couple of weeks. They even out pretty quickly actually as often as those two fight.

I head into my room and change. When I step out again Germany has waded into the middle of Britain and France's fight. He grabs them both by the scruffs of their necks and pulls them apart roaring at them in a mixture of English and German- mostly German because he tends to forget his English when he's pissed- about fighting in the house. Italy is standing in a corner, tears in the corners of his eyes with a hand over his cheek. Looks like he got dragged into the fight by accident and that's what set Germany off.

Germany throws Britain and France to the ground and looms over them to give his lecture as I slip past them. I'm about to open the door when Italy spots me and bounces over, any injuries apparently forgotten. "Ve, Jordan! Good afternoon! Oh, are you going somewhere?" he asks, tilting his head to the side with a curious expression.

God he's so cute when he does that. I hurriedly push these thoughts away as heat threatens to rise in my face. "Yea. I'm going to go for a run."

"A run? That doesn't sound like very much fun," Italy tells me solemnly and I have to stop myself from laughing.

"I dunno. It's nice every once in a while. I try to stay in shape when I can."

"If you say so, ve." Italy looks positively mournful now.

"Do you mind if you come with you?" I start slightly and turn to see Germany behind me. I raise a confused eyebrow at him and he continues. "I've been slacking on my training recently. I think going for a run would be good for me."

I shrug at that. I usually run with Kaylie, but she's out of town for a cross-country meet this weekend. "Sure." Why not?

"Danke," he replies with a nod to me. "Now, Italy," he begins over my head, but his voice quickly trails off. Confused I turn and see that Italy is no longer standing next to me. He has disappeared.

"He's gone," I say, blinking blankly at the space that until very recently was occupied by Italy.

Germany just shakes his head. "I do not have the patience to deal with him today," he mutters under his breath. "Just give me a minute to change," Germany says to me before heading to the door to my room and vanishing into the globe.

About that time Aaron comes down the stairs and heads towards the kitchen, undoubtedly to get a glass of water. He passes between Britain and France- who are still glowering heatedly at each other despite Germany's lecture- without seeming to notice them. He freezes as soon as he steps into the kitchen, however. "Seriously guys? _Seriously?_" he shouts, pivoting around and fixing Britain and France with a glare.

"I'm very sorry," Britain says haughtily. "But it's all the bloody frog's fault."

"Absurde!" France shoots back, sounding offended. "As I have said before it is not my fault that you would not know grace if it slapped you in the face with—." At this I shut the door behind me, already perfectly aware of how lewd France can get. Though I do wonder what on earth they broke that would make a mess big enough to set Aaron off.

The street outside is quiet. It's a pretty, sunny day, though it may be a bit hot. I walk down the steps off the front porch and onto the little stretch of grass that runs between the house and sidewalk to stretch. I'm about halfway through my usual routine when the front door opens and Germany steps out. Most of the time he dresses in button-down shirts, but now he's wearing a loose-fitting tank top, some kind of military uniform pants, and combat boots. The outfit is kind of strange, but that's not the real reason I'm staring at him. Germany is attractive just like the rest of the nations, but he looks _really_ good in that tank top. It shows off how muscular his chest and arms are. I try to focus back on stretching as my cheeks burn.

"Are you sure you want to wear that?" I ask, trying as hard as I can to not sound nervous.

"Ja, this is fine," Germany replies, sitting down next to me and beginning his own stretches. It's an effort not to stare at him.

Suddenly there is the sound of running footsteps from inside the house before the door slams open and Italy comes bursting out. He jumps down from the porch in one leap before taking off in a dead sprint down the street with a loud and terrified scream of 'NOOOOOOO!'. I stare after him dumbfounded. Who knew he could run that fast?

"Wait! Italy, come back!" I turn to see Aaron standing in the doorway, hand outstretched like it will somehow stop Italy's high-speed retreat.

"What did you do?" I ask him, bewildered.

"N-nothing!" he says hurriedly, glancing at Germany who has fixed him with a disapproving frown. "All I did was tell him that Britain offered to make dinner tonight to make up for making a mess in the kitchen," he adds, his tone defensive.

Well that's interesting. China making dinner a few nights ago- which was good and actually turned out quite well unless you subsist mainly on junk food…read Danny and America here- started a bit of a trend. Since then both France and Italy have made dinner and both their meals were delicious. I wouldn't have thought that Britain would have been so eager to do the same, however.

I raise an eyebrow at all of this, but Germany sighs and raises a hand to massage his temple. "That'll do it."

"Huh? How?" I ask, mystified.

Germany gives me a long-suffering look. "Italy is a…gourmet. And, well, Britain's food isn't very good."

"Really?"

"Yes," Germany replies, his lip curling slightly in disgust. Surely British food isn't that bad… "Italy hates it. That's why he ran off." Germany suddenly stands. "Come on," he tells me. "We'd better go catch up to him before he gets into trouble." Germany sighs again, looking very worn out, before breaking into a jog and heading down the street. I stand as well and follow.

…

We've gone about two miles now and seen neither hide nor hair of Italy. I'm beginning to get a little worried about him actually. Germany seems pretty sure that he ran off in this direction and that we'll find him, but I'm just worried that some thugs are going to find him first. Running with Germany has worked out pretty well so far, however. Despite the fact that he's taller than me and his stride is longer than mine he's been very polite and stayed with my pace.

We enter a park. It's not particularly big, but it makes a nice addition to the neighborhood. We pass a crowded playground- no sign of Italy- and start around the side of the good-sized pond that takes up the middle of the park. On the far side is a big hill on top of which is a little pavilion for outdoor events and parties.

We start up the hill and I lengthen out my stride, knowing that it gets pretty steep towards the top. I pull away from Germany briefly until he runs up next to me and passes me. Frowning I speed up until we're running side-by-side again. Germany lengthens his stride until he's front of me again. Son of a…what is this, a race? I push past Germany again only to have him pass me, throwing a small, smug smirk over his shoulder at me. Ok, fine then. If he wants a race I'm gonna give him one.

I pick up my pace and pass Germany yet again. When he tries to pass me I run even faster, determined not to let him win. Soon both of us are racing up the hill, sprinting as fast as we can. We hit the steep part at the top and I have to fight to keep going, my legs and lungs on fire. Finally we crest the top of the hill and I'm just a step behind Germany. We both come to a stop, me leaning over with my hands on my knees as I pant while Germany puts his hands on his hips and leans back, face towards the sky. All we do for several minutes is stand and breathe as our heart rates return to normal.

Finally Germany looks at me again. "That was impressive," he tells me, smiling. "I didn't think you'd be able to keep up with me."

I think- no, I'm pretty sure- that this is the first time I've ever seen Germany smile. And all I can say is wow. He's hair, usually so neatly slicked back, has gotten a bit mussed up as well, a few loose strands falling into his face. His eyes have softened a bit and he seems relaxed for once. It's like he's a different person. The effect is…well, let's just say I'm really glad that I'm still flushed from running.

"I wasn't about to let you win without a fight," I tell him, nervously returning the smile.

Germany's smile widens a bit, but as he opens his mouth to reply he's interrupted by a familiar voice shouting, "HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!"

"Italy!" Germany calls and takes off towards the sound of his voice. I follow and we end up at the base of a large oak tree on the far side of the hill. Italy is halfway up it, wedged between two branches. He's gone and treed himself like a cat, apparently. "Italy!" Germany calls to him again, but this time more in relief than worry.

Italy's cries for help cease immediately. "Germany, oh Germany I'm so happy to see you! And Jordan too! Please help me! I can't get down!"

"Just climb down!" Germany commands, a hint of impatience in his tone. "It's not that high!"

Italy shakes his head so furiously that his face becomes a blur. "I can't Germany! It's too high! It's too scary!"

Germany pinches the bridge of his nose as he sighs in frustration. He takes a deep breath and then barks at the top of his lungs, "Italy! Get down here now!"

This startles Italy so badly that he flinches and yelps. It seems to loosen him from his position in the tree, however, as suddenly he begins to sway precariously between the branches. I gasp and clap a hand over my mouth in horror as Italy loses his balance and falls. "Germany save me!" he screams as he tumbles towards the ground, taking a few branches out with him on the way down.

"Italy!" Germany's yell is panicked now as he rushes forward.

I turn away and close my eyes before Italy hits the ground, unwilling to see the end result of his fall and Germany's rescue attempt. There is a crash and then I look back towards them at the sound of a pained groan and a contented little 've'. Germany must have tried to catch Italy because they're both on the ground, Italy sprawled out on top of Germany. I breathe a sigh of relief, as they both appear unhurt.

Germany sits up slowly, frowning as he attempts to push Italy off him. Italy suddenly shoots straight up and hugs Germany tightly around the neck. "You saved me Germany!" he cries, joyously. "Grazie! Grazie!"

"Gack! Italy let me go!" Germany says, sounding half choked, as he tries to pry the other country's arms off him. I have to smother a giggle at the sight of tough, macho Germany struggling to get Italy off him. Soon it's too much for me and I begin to laugh, my relief that they're ok only adding to my light-hearted amusement.

"What are you laughing at?" Germany growls, fixing me with glare, as he finally manages to get his hands around Italy's wrists and push him away.

"Ew…you're all sweaty," Italy says, finally drawing back from Germany, a slight pout on his face.

"Of course he is. We were just running," I tell Italy, purposely not answering Germany's question despite the nation's scowl.

Speaking seems to remind Italy of my presence as he suddenly leaps to his feet and hugs/tackles me as well. "You came to find me too Jordan! Grazie!" he exclaims.

"Y-you're welcome," I manage to reply as my face heats up at the feeling of Italy's body pressed against mine. I'm really starting to wish he wasn't so touchy feely. Of course it doesn't help that I get ridiculously embarrassed every time he- or any of the other countries for that matter- touches me. Why do they have such an effect on me?

Italy pulls away from me as suddenly as he embraced me. "You're all sweaty too…" he whines, pulling a full-on pout out now. I want to be mad at him for violating my personal space _again_, but I can feel the corners of my mouth twitching, threatening to turn upwards. Italy's just so…so…cute. Insert massive blush here.

"That's enough of that Italy," Germany says sternly and Italy turns to him. "Now it's starting to get late. We need to get back to Jordan's house."

"Yes sir!" Italy chirps, saluting Germany with his left hand before skipping off down the hill the opposite direction from which we came and away from us.

"Wait Italy!" Germany yells. "Not that way!"

"It's ok," I tell Germany. He gives me a slightly skeptical look. "The path is circular so we can go this way just as easily as the way we came."

"Alright," Germany sighs, resigned, as he sets off down the path after Italy with me right behind.

This route through the park is slightly longer and more "scenic". It takes us past the prettiest side of the pond, which is lined with flowering bushes and weeping willows. Germany's irritation ebbs as we walk watching Italy frolic on the path in front of us as hums softly to himself. "Ducks!" Italy suddenly exclaims, dashing over towards the side of the pond where a group of ducks are resting in the grass.

Germany sighs, exasperated, but he stops and waits for Italy with his arms crossed, toe tapping impatiently. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and decide that this is the chance to ask him something that I've been wondering for a while. "So…Germany," I begin, not entirely sure how to phrase my question.

"Ja?" he asks, his eyes not leaving Italy as the tempo of his toe tapping subtly increases.

"Well…it seems like Italy annoys you most of the time. But, you're so protective of him. Why is that?" Germany finally turns to me looking startled. "I-I mean," I say hurriedly, feeling as though I may have just crossed a line. "It's just kind of odd and I'm curious…I mean…"

"It's ok," Germany replies, turning his gaze back to Italy who is currently chasing the ducks around trying to catch one. "It's because…" he begins, shifting uncomfortably. "Italy was my first friend," he finally says softly.

I blink at him in surprise. "Really?" I ask, trying to keep the worst of my incredulity out of my voice.

"Ja…" Germany's expression turns contemplative as he continues. "We are not human. We are our nations and as such human ties- love, affection, friendship- do not mean the same thing to us. We form alliances and sign treaties, but in the end we're only really looking out for ourselves, for our nations, for our people. It has nothing do with what we want or feel."

I can't help but feel a deep sadness at Germany's words. Despite the fact that the countries always seem to be together they're always really alone. It sounds so lonely. So I'm surprised when I see a small smile playing at the corners of Germany's lips. "But Italy is different. He loves his people and acts for him just as the rest of us do, but it's more than that. He acts for himself as well. He is your friend not just because it's convenient or because his boss told him to. It's because he truly wants to be your friend. Italy is my friend. He means a lot to me. So if he's in trouble or needs to be protected I will help in whatever way I can. It's the least I can do."

"Germany…" I breathe quietly. Such a genuine, heartfelt statement…it takes my breath away.

"I apologize," Germany says, suddenly looking embarrassed. "I'm sure that didn't really answer your question."

Before I can reply Italy lets out a terrified yelp and comes sprinting back towards us with an angry looking and honking goose on his heels. "Help me Germany! Help me!" he shouts, ducking behind the larger man. Germany steps forward, standing his ground and glaring as the goose comes to a stop. They stare each other down for several seconds before the goose turns away and heads back to the water letting out a honk that sounds distinctly self-satisfied.

"You saved me again, Germany!" Italy cries. "Grazie!"

"Ja, ja bitte," Germany replies, putting a hand on Italy's chest as he attempts to glomp him again. "But no hugging this time."

"But Germanyyyy," Italy whines, pouting fiercely.

Germany rolls his eyes. "Nein, Italy," he says firmly.

I find myself unable to resist the urge to laugh again. Especially after everything that Germany has just told me, their interaction is even more…touching than it was before. Their friendship seems all the more special now. Italy turns his ever-present smile on me, while Germany shoots me an annoyed look. "Don't worry Germany," I tell him, smiling. "It's not just Italy." I pause to take a breath, suddenly nervous about continuing. Ah hell, screw it. "You've got me now too."

Italy tilts his head to the side, confused. The same confusion flashes briefly through Germany's eyes before being replaced by realization. He quickly looks away from me and I'm surprised to see the pink of a faint blush staining his cheeks. "Ja. Danke Jordan," he tells me.

My smile widens. I've decided I'm going to be Germany's friend- and everyone else's too. They already consider me their friend, but I've kind of been resisting admitting it to myself. But if what Germany says is true, then all the nations really need a friend. And I want to help them. It's only fair right? And even though I complain about them all the time they're really not so bad…

"Come on," I say, setting off down the path again. "Let's head home." For the first time since I met all the countries I'm looking forward to seeing all of them when we get there.

…

Italy, Germany, and I are halfway back to the house when Italy suddenly pauses on a street corner, gazing down the cross street. He raises his arm and begins to wave energetically. "America! Japan! China!"

"Dudes, hey!" America calls back. He probably would have waved too had both his hands not been weighed down by bags stuffed full of junk food. Following America is Japan, who looks exhausted, and China, who looks quite pleased with himself. "What're you guys doing out here?" America asks as they approach.

"Italy ran off so we had to go find him," I reply as Italy leaps forward to greet Japan and China.

"Oh? How come?"

"Britain offered to make dinner tonight," Germany answers gruffly.

America laughs as Germany scowls at him. "Oh I get it. Come one guys let's hurry up and get back before my ice cream melts!" he continues, motioning for everyone to keep moving. We all set off again back towards home.

"Are you ok?" I ask Japan, drifting over so that I'm walking next to him.

"Hai," he replies tiredly. "I just have a hard time keeping up with the youngsters' energy." He nods towards America and Italy in front of us who are talking energetically, Germany beside them looking like his patience is starting to wear thin.

"That's why you need to listen to me!" China scolds from Japan's other side. "If you would take those supplements I keep giving you, you wouldn't have these problems!"

Japan shoots China dirty look. "I do not think mixing animal parts into my tea will make me feel any better."

"Are you questioning Chinese medicine? It has been around for thousands of years longer than Western medicine you know. I think I know what I'm talking about," China replies haughtily.

Japan sighs but stops trying to argue with him. We all walk on for a bit more until we spot a familiar figure farther down the street in front of us. "Dudes that's Russia isn't it?" America asks, squinting against the afternoon sunlight. It's Russia without a doubt and it takes me a moment to remember why he's outside. When I do I trot past the other countries, feeling rather apprehensive about the state of Danny and Greg's health. Though they'd probably deserve whatever Russia did to them...but I hope he didn't kill them.

"Hey, Russia," I say slowing to a stop beside him.

"Oh Jordan," he replies, sounding slightly surprised. He turns around as everyone else comes up behind us. "And everyone. Hello," he continues smiling. The other countries greet him less than enthusiastically, most of them not making eye contact.

"So…uh…what happened to Danny and Greg?" I ask nervously.

"Huh? Oh them? They got away. For now," Russia replies, his smile constant, but his tone promising retribution. I still breathe a silent sigh of relief. Danny and Greg are safe and breathing, at least for the time being.

"Hold on a second," America says looking back and forth between Russia and I. "What's up with Danny?"

"He was making fun of the Soviet Union," Russia replies, his smile darkening a bit. "So I thought I'd show them what it was like. A good idea, da?"

America's eyes narrow behind his glasses. Suddenly he shoves his bags into Japan's arms- who stumbles backwards in surprise- and steps up to Russia. "We've been over this haven't we?" America asks, poking Russia in the chest with his finger. "You can't go around terrorizing my citizens!"

"I wasn't terrorizing them. I was educating them." Russia's voice is cheerful, but a dark aura is beginning to emanate from him.

"With you it's the same thing!"

As America and Russia begin to argue more heatedly I shiver, the temperature around us seeming to drop by several degrees. I guess when it comes to the two of them the Cold War takes on a literal meaning. "Hey, guys," I begin, trying to break up their argument. "I think it's about time we should be getting back."

America and Russia both ignore me. I'm about to speak up again, louder this time, when the two arguing nations are silenced by the deafening growling of Italy's stomach. Everyone turns to stare at him as Italy lays a hand over the offending organ. "Ve~ I'm hungry!" he says smiling blissfully at everyone.

The silence is broken by a giggle from Russia. America shoots him a glare before walking over to Japan and taking his bags back. Japan looks relieved. "As the hero I say it's time we go home!" America declares, stalking back down the street and purposely knocking into Russia's shoulder as he walks past.

"Da," Russia agrees cheerfully. The rest of us set off after them. It's not too long before we reach the house, filing up onto the porch and in the front door. As I enter I see Aaron seated at the table with France sitting across from him, an oddly smug expression on his face.

"Oh, there you all are. You're just in time. Dinner is almost ready," Britain says as he steps out of the kitchen. He's wearing an apron and there's a spatula in his hand.

Silence greets Britain's announcement until Italy screams "NOOO!" and makes a run for my bedroom door. He enters the globe and slams the door shut behind him.

Britain finally breaks the awkward silence. "I-I guess he wasn't h-hungry…" I feel bad for how depressed Britain looks now.

"Well I am!" I declare sitting down at the table next to France.

Britain's face brightens immediately. "Wonderful. I'll be right back," he says, disappearing into the kitchen.

"You really shouldn't eat his food Jordan," China whispers to me.

A raise a skeptical eyebrow at him. "Come on, in can't be _that_ horrible."

No one replies, China, Japan, Germany, and Russia simply exchanging worried glances as they shift about uncomfortably. "I hate to break it to you chérie, but it's true," France suddenly says, putting his chin in his hand as he rests his elbow on the table. "Britain's food is grotesque. Much like his hair. And those horrible eyebrows."

"Aw come on dude, it really isn't that bad," America says genially as he slides into the chair across from me.

"Of course you don't think so," France says haughtily, flipping his hair with one hand as he leans back. "You were raised on it."

America doesn't get the chance to reply as Britain reappears bearing several plates laden with food. He puts them down on the table and stands back to wipe his forehead with his sleeve in a satisfied way. "I've made lots of different things, but I figure we could start with this. Fish and chips. Dig in!"

"Awesome!" America exclaims, reaching out to grab several pieces of the fried fish and a heaping handful of fries. "Hey, Britain," American begins, his mouth already full. "Do you have any ketch—"

"No!" Britain snaps. "But I do have vinegar and salt. Which is how you're supposed to eat fish and chips!" America pouts but keeps eating anyways.

I exchange a cautious glance with Danny as I grab my own portions. The fish and chips don't look too bad, if a bit greasy. And they smell really good. I look over at the bottle of vinegar and the saltshaker that Britain has placed on the table. It doesn't sound like a good idea to put them on my food, but if that's how it's done… Someone behind me makes a gagging sound as I hesitantly sprinkle my food with vinegar and salt. Britain turns and shoots a vicious glare at the countries behind us before turning and watching nervously as Aaron and I begin to eat.

I finish my first bite and turn to Britain with a smile. "This is really good," I tell him. Aaron nods in agreement. Britain beams.

"You Americans," France sighs dramatically. "You'll like anything as long as it's fried."

"Shut up frog," Britain growls. "Here let me go get something else," he says disappearing into the kitchen again. By the time I'm finished with my fish and chips Britain is placing another dish on the table. "Curry!" he says proudly.

I'm much more enthusiastic about taking a portion this time. The fish and chips were good and the British have been making curry for a long time, so I figure this will be good too. Slightly worrisome is the fact that America hasn't immediately dived into this dish. "Um…" he says, holding out a hand like he wants to stop me. "I'm not sure you should try this one Jordan," he says.

I give him a confused look. "What on earth are you talking about America?" Britain exclaims, outraged. "My curry is delicious!"

"Yea, it's not bad, but it's kinda..." America trails off as I ignore their argument, opting instead to shovel a heaping spoonful of curry into my mouth. I savor it for a moment, allowing the exotic spices to wash over my tongue. It's good, really good. Except for… I frown as a burning sensation begins in the back of my throat. The heat intensifies rapidly until it feels like my mouth is on fire. My nose begins to run as tears start pricking in the corners of my eyes. I begin coughing.

"Jordan-san what's wrong?" Japan asks, alarmed.

"Hot!" I manage to say as pain saturates my mouth. "It's really HOT!"

"Oh!" Britain exclaims, dashing into the kitchen and returning with a glass of water that he shoves into my hand. I chug it down as Britain apologizes profusely. "I'm so sorry Jordan! I should have warned you about how spicy it was!"

America nods knowingly. "That's what I was talking about."

"But…I mean…it's not good unless it's quite spicy." Britain begs with to forgive him with his eyes.

From beside me France smirks smugly. "What did I tell you chérie?"

"I don't see what all the fuss is about." Everyone turns to stare at Aaron. "It's not that hot."

"You're joking right?" I ask, wincing as my tongue touches the still burning surfaces inside my mouth.

"No," Aaron says, shooting me a puzzled look. "It's really good actually."

"D-do you mean that?" Britain asks, his expression so hopeful that it's almost painful.

"Yea. I like it a lot."

Someone makes the gagging noise again, but this time Britain ignores it. "T-thank you Aaron," he says, so happy that tears are forming in the corners of his eyes, his smile positively glowing.

I shake my head in disbelief. I knew Aaron liked spicy food, but this is ridiculous. Note to self: the next time Britain makes dinner DO NOT eat the curry!

**Author's Note- PLEASE READ AT LEAST THE FIRST TWO PARAGRAPHS!**

I'm sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up. I was SUPER busy last week- I didn't even have time to really write until this past weekend. Also I apologize that it's a bit on the short side, but I'm certain the next chapter will make up for it. Speaking of the next chapter…(And this is the reason why I really wanted you to read this paragraph)…I'm going to be introducing two more characters! One of them will definitely be joining Jordan's harem and the other probably will be too (though I haven't quite figured out how I'm going to work him in yet). So- and here comes the fun part- I want you to guess who these two characters will be. And if you get them both right- and it has to be BOTH of them- you win a PRIZE! Yay! My plan is to I write any Hetalia one shot of your choice if you guess the characters correctly. There are only two exceptions to this- 1. I won't write yaoi (because I'm not really into that). 2. I will not write anything citrusy (because if I ever write something like that I want it to be on my own terms). So there you have it. If you guess both new characters correctly you win your very own Hetalia one shot! I figure it'll be fun and writing more one shots will probably be good for my writing too.

Also if anyone has any ideas for the full chapters I do entirely in the "real world" or the little bits that I do at the beginning of the history chapters then please share them with me. I have lots of ideas and I come up with new ones all the time, but I've got two whole semesters to cover and with each week taking about three chapters it's a lot. So, yea, reader input would be greatly appreciated. And I'll make sure to give you credit if I use your idea.

So no history in this chapter, but I feel like I should explain a few things. The Soviet Russia meme- it's one I'm actually quite fond of. All of the ones in this chapter are real that I found on the Internet. The last one if from Family Guy. America and Japan going to the convenience store- I don't remember if it's in the anime or not but in the manga (which I now own *does happy fangirl dance* and I'm getting the third volume in June!) there's a little sketch of America being really excited about eating what I'm guessing is a bento from a Japanese convenience store. So I thought it'd be fun if America showed Japan a Seven-Eleven as part of their "cultural exchange". Chinese medicine- some of this definitely works (like acupuncture), but I'm inclined to think a lot of it is pretty sketchy. They also like to used dried up bits of animals a lot- especially endangered ones. And finally the title/curry thing- I have a British uncle and according to him curry isn't good unless it's hot enough to make you cry. That's what inspired the title and the end of this chapter. And I've been to Britain (Scotland specifically) and all the food I had there was really good, so I think Britain just gets a bad rap. Especially fish and chips, though it is insanely greasy. Make sure to get NAPKINS.

Eleven reviews! Yay, yay, YAY! That makes me so freaking happy! Like, seriously, you have no idea. Thank you so VERY VERY MUCH to Hannajima Shields, CeliaSingsSongs, Sora'struelover, , Atama Ga Kuru Teru, daleksuperfan, Rinny009, Piyo13, torixx3, and ShippudenFlower! You guys are all awesome! Please keep up that reviewing!

As another note I'm trying to generally stay chronological with the history stuff in this (I already kind of screwed that up doing the Vikings last chapter, but eh whatever). So in response to your question Rinny009 (I know it was in your review for a couple chapters ago and I'm really sorry I forgot to answer it before!) it'll be a while before we get into Germany's history. And probably Italy and America's as well since they're also 'young'. That's one of the reasons why I wrote this chapter- so that Jordan could have some bonding time with Germany and Italy. It will probably continue like this for a bit except for one thing coming up in a couple chapters, but you'll see what I mean when we get there. But don't worry though because you'll see lots of all three of them once we get to the twentieth century.

In any case it may be a bit before I get the next chapter out (being busy is blargh) but I'll try to get it out as soon as I can because I'm SUPER excited to write it. In the word document in my computer this story is now 99 pages (holy crap!). Also- fun fact- my birthday is in a month. Yay! Presents, yes? (I'm kidding but it's kind of exciting still).

Thanks for reading all the way to the end!

imagination junkie


	8. As Red as a Tomato?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or certain ideas from Atama Ga Kuru Teru's story 'World is Ours', but I do own my characters and this plot.

**Chapter 8: As Red as a Tomato?**

"Damn it! I can't get this stupid thing to work!" Danny jumps to his feet, throws his wrench to the ground, and then proceeds to stomp around in a temper tantrum. We've been neglecting doing the yard work for the past couple of weeks (because of school starting, the party, etc) so today we've managed to rope everyone into helping out.

America is having a grand old time running the weed eater around the inside of our fence. China, Japan, and Russia are all hard at work weeding the flowerbeds and Germany is trimming the hedges at the back of the yard while Italy "helps". France and Britain are supposed to be gathering up the last of last fall's leaves from under our tree, but that has devolved into a battle with their rakes. Danny is supposed to be mowing the yard, but our lawn mower is old and crappy and he can't get it to start. Aaron is at band practice so he got out of helping tonight.

And me? I'm supervising. Insert evil smile here.

"Are you sure there's gas in it?" I ask.

"Yes, I'm sure there's gas in it!" Danny snaps, turning to me. "It's something with the drive belt." I shrug in reply and take another sip of my lemonade. Danny scowls angrily at me. "Why don't you do something to help?"

"I don't know how to fix a lawn mower. I'm a physics major not an engineering major."

Danny opens his mouth to respond, but is drowned out by the sound of the weed eater as America approaches us. America shuts it off and pushes his safety glasses on top of his head. "Sup dudes! You guys having a problem?"

"Yea, this damn thing won't start!" Danny exclaims, giving the poor lawn mower a vicious kick.

"Danny don't kick it!"

"Oh shut up! It's not like you're doing anything!"

"Chill out dudes! Leave this to me!" America declares, putting the weed eater down. He steps over to the tool box, pulls out a random handful of tools, and sits down in front of the lawn mower.

"You can fix it?" Danny asks, excited.

"Of course I can. I'm the hero!" America replies. He's got his back to me so I can't quite see what he's doing, but there's an awful lot of banging going on for him to be fixing the mower. Danny hovers as America works, making suggestions and pointing at various parts despite the fact that he didn't really know what he was doing in the first place.

I don't really start to get alarmed until America says 'oops' and something clatters to the ground. "Um, guys?" I start, sitting up straighter in my lawn chair. "Maybe we should just take it to the hardware store…"

"No way man," America replies, but he sounds a lot less confident than before. "I've…almost…got it…" There's another loud clatter.

I lean back in my chair with a sigh. Why do men always seem to have this compulsive need to fix things even when they don't know how to? Seriously, it's ridiculous. They're only going to make it worse. I look up at some loud swearing from America, but my eye is quickly caught by China beckoning me over to the flowerbeds. I throw one last irritated glare at Danny and America's backs before heading over.

"We're done weeding," China tells me proudly. "We did a good job, yes?" He motions grandly towards the now empty flowerbeds. I glance over at a large pile of greenery that's just been ripped from the earth before turning back to the flowerbeds. "Well…?" China prompts me eagerly.

"Well…erm…You definitely got all the weeds. But you got all the flowers too…"

"Aiyah!" China exclaims looking shocked then he quickly turns red from embarrassment.

"I told you," Japan hisses at him softly.

"Oh no," Russia says, not sounding the least bit upset.

"Don't sound all innocent!" China snaps at Russia, rounding on him. "This is all your fault!"

"Huh?" No it isn't," Russia replies pleasantly.

"Yes it is!"

"China, please stop this. It's unfair to lay all of the blame on Russia. We all contributed to this fiasco."

"No! No, it's all Russia's fault!"

"Guys! Enough already!" I shout, resisting the urge to rub my temples in attempt to soothe my growing headache. The three nations quiet down, China looking particularly chastised.

"We are very sorry, Jordan-san," Japan tells me, bowing deeply from the waist.

"Da!"

"Shì. I-I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I sigh. "I was thinking about replanting the flowerbeds anyways. Now I finally have an excuse to." I nudge the toe of my shoe in the empty dirt as I consider this.

"Oh? What would you plant?" Japan asks, looking genuinely interested.

"Hmm…Sunflowers maybe."

China and Japan blink at me in surprise. "Sunflowers?" Russia asks, sounding truly delighted.

"Yea…they're pretty much my favorite flower," I admit.

"Ah. They are mine too," Russia replies. I find that I have to look at him. He normally sounds cheerful, but I've never heard him sound so genuinely happy before. When I see his expression I suddenly feel breathless. He's wearing a true, honest-to-God, and sincerely happy smile. It makes him look so…so different. So much more human than his normal vaguely creepy self.

I look away as I feel my face heat up. Seriously, what is wrong with me? Russia is just as gorgeous as the other countries, but why do they all have such an effect on me? I don't get it!

I'm forcibly drawn from my thoughts (which probably isn't a bad thing) by the sound of the lawnmower starting. Danny and America do a victory dance involving much high-fiving and fist pumping before running off to their separate chores and I decide that I should get back to the task of supervising. I set China, Japan, and Russia to work cleaning up the mess they made of the flowerbeds, break up the rake fight between Britain and France, and rescue Danny from Germany who rescued Italy from being chased around by Danny with the lawnmower.

I head back to my chair significantly more tired and just as confused as I was earlier. I sigh as I sit back down and take another swig from my lemonade. I'm glad the countries are around- I honestly enjoy their presences and they can be damn useful sometimes- but I just wish I could figure out why they all seem to have such an effect on me. Even 'become one with me (da)?' Russia can make me blush and act like a lovesick schoolgirl with just a smile. Ah, well. I guess I can worry about that another time. At least the lawnmower is running again.

…

Evening has rolled around and all the yard work is finished. Fortunately it has also served to wear all the nations out, so instead of making their normal ruckus they're all just laying around the house exhausted. Even America and Italy are tired. I'm not, which is a good thing because I have to write one of my little history papers. And it's due tomorrow. I guess senioritis is already starting to set in. Now I just need someone to introduce me to the country whose history I need to go into.

"Hey Britain?" I ask approaching him as he sits sprawled out on the couch. He cracks one green eye open to show that he's listening. I glance around to make sure Danny isn't in earshot before continuing. "Can you take me to meet Spain?"

"Spain? Why on Earth would you want to talk to that arse?" Britain exclaims, sitting up and opening his other eye as he fully wakes up. I shift uncomfortably, a bit taken a back by his reaction. Apparently Britain doesn't get along with Spain very well either. Then again, when I think about the one time I've seen them interacting- in Britain's history as a pirate- I suppose it's not that surprising. Come to think of it…Britain doesn't really get along with anyone does he?

"Well my paper is due tomorrow and it's on the Spanish Moors so…" I shrug as I trail off. It's not like I can change the assignment.

"Spanish Moors," Britain scoffs. "Well if you really _must_ see that bloody—"

"I'll take you, ve~" Italy suddenly exclaims, appearing behind Britain. Britain jumps before turning a glare on Italy. "Come on Jordan!" he says, running around the couch to grab my hand and drag me towards my bedroom door.

"Better you than me," I hear Britain grumble as we enter the globe.

Italy shuts the door behind us and we set off down one of the door-lined hallways. "Ve~ I'm so excited," Italy chirps as we walk. "It's been a while since I got to see big brother Spain."

I turn to Italy, startled. "Spain is your brother?"

"Well, not really, but he likes me to call him that," Italy replies with a smile. "But I do have a big brother! His name is Romano!"

I give Italy a confused look. Again I'm being faced with the human personifications of the countries having familial relationships and I really just don't get how it works. Well, there was that thing with Norway and Iceland being brothers and since Vikings settled Iceland I can kind of see how that works. But I think now is a good time to get to the bottom of the rest of this.

"So how does that work?" I ask. Italy tilts his head to the side looking puzzled. So cute…focus! "I mean, how are you and this Romano guy brothers? Are you both Italy or something?"

Understanding dawns on Italy's face. "That's it exactly! Ve, you're really smart Jordan!" I blush lightly and mumble a thank you as Italy continues. "I'm the north of the country and Romano is the south."

I'm getting curious now. "Does anyone else have siblings?"

"Yea! I guess you already know about Norway and Iceland, but Germany has an older brother too." I stare at Italy in surprise. Germany has brother? "And America has a brother!" America? "And, well they're sisters not brothers, but Russia has an older sister and a younger sister." Italy suddenly shivers. "His younger sister is scary."

All I can do is blink at Italy in surprise. I never would have guessed that so many countries would have siblings. I wonder how that relationship works with the other nations Italy mentioned. Are they all geographically defined too or is it something else?

Italy draws me out of my musings by stopping before a door painted in the bright red and gold of the Spanish flag. "Here we are!" He raises his hand and knocks. It takes a few seconds, but then the door swings open revealing the same man who Britain fought on the high seas in that first history I went into. I thought he was attractive then, but Spain is even more gorgeous up close with dark brown, wavy hair and emerald green eyes. "Big brother Spain!"

The confusion on Spain's face quickly morphs into genuine joy as he greets us, beaming. "Ita! It's been too long, mi amigo. And you must be Jordan right?" he asks, looking at me. I nod response and he offers a hand. I take it, but rather than just shaking it like I expect Spain pulls me forward. He presses a kiss to both of my cheeks and, pulling back, gives me a friendly smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he tells me.

"I-i-it's nice to meet you too." Oh dear God. I swear I can feel my face radiating heat.

"Hey tomato bastard! Who the hell is it?" Another voice calls irritably from behind Spain.

"Fratello!" Italy calls happily as Spain steps aside to reveal another man munching on a tomato as if it was an apple. Even if Italy hadn't spoken up there is no way that I wouldn't have been able to figure out who this guys is. He is obviously Italy's brother, the resemblance between them so strong I literally do a double take. The only real difference between Italy and his brother is that Romano's hair and eye color are darker and that the curl of hair sticking out from his bangs hangs to the right rather than the left. That and the fact that he's wearing a sour looking scowl rather than an absent-minded smile.

"It's your little brother, Romano," Spain tells the other nation cheerfully. "And he has brought Jordan too."

"Eh?" Romano's eyes shift from his brother to me and then his scowl transforms into a charming smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he tells me, taking my hand, planting a kiss on the back of it, and eliciting a fierce blush from me. Romano is just as attractive as his brother. "Veneziano, why haven't you brought her to meet me sooner?" Romano asks Italy, shooting a brief glower at him that says something along the lines of 'We're going to have a talk about this later'.

"Sorry fratello," Italy replies somewhat nervously. "I forgot."

I glance between the two of them feeling confused as Romano fixes his brother with a glare. "Veneziano?" I ask, puzzled.

"That's his name. His full name is Italy Veneziano and I am Italy Romano," Romano replies quickly, his expression smoothly changing to a smile. Throwing in a wink is enough to get my face heating up again.

"Awww, Romano," Spain coos suddenly. "So you're cute when you're chatting up a pretty girl."

Romano twitches as poorly hidden anger crosses his face. "Eeeeh? What was that you tomato bastard?" Romano growls, turning to Spain with his eyebrow twitching. I take a step back, feeling alarmed. He was acting kind of weird towards Italy, but now I'm definitely starting to think that Romano is bipolar.

"I said that you're—"

"I know what you said damn it!"

"If you already knew, then why did you ask?"

"Damn it! Because I can't believe you actually said it! I'm not a little kid anymore, you damn bastard!"

"Aww, but Romano," Spain replies, pinching one of Romano's cheeks. "You'll always be a little niño to me, tomate pequeño!"

"Bastard!" Romano screeches, pulling his face out of Spain's grasp and slapping the other nation's hand away. Spain chuckles lightly.

"Fratello…I think you should calm down a bit…" Italy says tentatively.

"Shut up Veneziano!" Romano snaps at him, causing Italy to flinch.

"I'm sorry!"

Romano turns away and continues his tirade at Spain, gesturing wildly as he does so. Italy and I watch them without saying a word. Romano is getting increasingly worked up, but Spain doesn't seem phased in the slightest, his pleasant smile never faltering. Italy, close to tears, looks like he wants to interrupt, but is too afraid to do so. I'm definitely putting Romano down as another country that needs anger management.

Then I say something. I don't mean for anyone but Italy to hear it, so I lean over a bit to whisper in his ear. Unfortunately, just as I speak, Romano pauses to take a breath and my voice suddenly carries through the hallway. "Your brother is an asshole."

Everyone freezes. Italy glances at me wide-eyed, while Spain gives me a look that's a mixture of alarm and amusement. Romano turns to me slowly, fixing me with the fierce glare that so far has been reserved only for his brother and Spain. "What did you say?" he asks, his tone aggressive.

I take a moment to think about what I've just done. Romano wasn't supposed to hear what I just said, but the fact of the matter is that it's true. And I don't really appreciate that he acted nice towards me just to charm me when he's such a jerk to everyone else. I'm mean, seriously, screaming at his own brother like that? Definitely not cool. Romano is clearly a jerk and a bully and I honestly don't want to apologize to him right now. So instead, as intimidating as his glare is, I prop my hands on my hips and give him a stern look. "I said you're an asshole," I reply, my tone daring him to challenge me.

A variety of emotions cross Romano's face as he grinds his teeth at me. It seems like he's warring with himself about whether to start yelling at me like he did with Spain or act nice like he did before. Finally he gives up. "I don't have to stand around and be insulted by some donna stupida, damn it! I'm leaving!" Romano then turns and storms away down the hallway, cursing heatedly under his breath in Italian.

Spain doesn't do anything, but Italy shifts uncomfortably and watches Romano apprehensively as he goes. Finally, when Romano has all but disappeared, he turns to me. "I'm sorry Jordan!" he exclaims before turning away and running down the hallway after his brother. "Wait, fratelloooooo!"

"Um…" Suddenly I feel completely embarrassed. What the hell was I thinking? I was just as bad as Romano. I glance at Spain, expecting him to snap at me or something, but to my surprise he just laughs.

"Don't worry about him señorita. It takes Romano a while to warm up to everyone," he tells me, clapping a friendly hand on my shoulder. I can't help but wonder what Spain's definition of 'warming up' is. "Now I'm guessing Ita brought you to my door today because you need to go into my history, no?" I nod. "Bien! What part?"

"Well…the Moors."

"Ah, yes I see. I think you'll find it quite interesting. Come on then~!" Spain wraps an arm around my shoulders in a genial manner, sending my heartbeat skyrocketing, and steers me down the hall in the opposite direction of Italy and Romano, talking my ear off in a way to rival Italy's the whole way.

…

When we enter the closet Spain lets me go, heading off to the right side of the room to rifle through the clothing. "Here we are!" he exclaims as he pulls an outfit out, turning to show it to me.

"Wow." I whistle lowly through my teeth. A long sleeved shirt of white cotton with baggy sleeves is not that impressive, but the pleated and embroidered silk skirt and the cotton embroidered pants, clearly intended to be worn underneath the skirt- are. But that's nothing compared to the coat. It is very long, about ankle length, and made of painted silk. It is brightly colored, the base blue, and covered in geometric designs in yellow and green. Finally there is a pair of soft looking leather boots that have been dyed blue to match the coat.

Spain beams at me. "Sí, sí, it's magnífico! Now go change, señorita!" He hands me the pile of clothing and steers me towards the changing room.

Once I've finished changing- it took a bit of time for me to figure out everything was supposed to go on- I head back into the main room to show Spain. He smiles that blinding smile at me again, but this time there's a light in his green eyes that instantly makes me blush. "Muy bonita…You look wonderful, Jordan," Spain tells me softly, moving so that he's standing right in front of me. I'm trapped by his eyes as he gazes at me, my heart thundering in my chest. "Now, for the finishing touch."

Spain raises his hands and out of the corner of my eye I see that he's holding some kind of white fabric. I still flinch, however, when I feel his hands around the back of my neck, our bodies close together in a half-embrace that is both strangely intimate and somehow business-like at the same time. Spain arranges something on my head- the white fabric he was holding before I think- and then leads me back into the dressing room. In the mirror I see that it's some kind of turban, completely covering the top of my head and hair. An embroidered headband, in the same colors but with a different pattern than the coat, holds the turban in place.

"Now we just have to…" Spain murmurs as he grabs a piece of the fabric that is hanging free and pulls it across my face, covering my nose and mouth and leaving only my eyes exposed. His fingers linger on my cheeks as he adjusts the fabric veiling my face and my blush is so bright that it shines through. "There you are," Spain tells me cheerfully, turning me so that I face him. "Can't have you running around dressed improperly now can we?"

"I-I guess not," I agree, my head still not quite on all the way straight. It takes me a moment to figure out why I would be dressed improperly if my face wasn't covered. That's right- the Moors were Muslim.

"Alright señorita," Spain says, pulling me back out into the main room of the closest. I'm going to send you to Cordoba around 960. Ah, what a wonderful time it was…" Spain gets a faraway look in his eyes as he continues. "The Caliphate had just been established under Abd al-Rahman III. So much art and learning and culture…" Spain sighs. "I was the envy of all of Europe then."

Uncertain about what to say I decide that the best course of action is to keep my mouth shut. After another moment or two of reminiscing Spain snaps out of it. "Ah, you'll see what I mean!" he exclaims, striding forward and opening the door of the closet for me. "Have fun!" Spain says, offering me an intricate bow and a wink. I hurriedly look away, but I'm sure he still saw me blushing as I step into his past.

…

I blink away the bright Mediterranean sun and gasp in awe at the sight before me. It must be the city of Cordoba. And boy what a city it is. A paved- paved!- street lined with raised sidewalks- sidewalks!- slopes gently down towards a glistening ribbon of river. The streets are lined with buildings of every size, made of wood and stone, and the tops of the mosque minarets dot the skyline here and there. I'm on the edge of the city and looking behind me I can just make out mountaintops over a massive stonewall. Aqueducts emerge from the walls themselves and snake their way down into the city.

But all of that isn't what's really amazing. Cordoba is a city- a real city with numerous buildings big and small. And people! I can't believe how many people there are walking the sidewalks and the streets. I begin to walk down towards the river, unable to stop myself from twisting and turning as I try to take everything in, mouth agape. The streets are literally crowded. As I walk I catch snippets of conversation. Besides the ones that I can understand- which I'm guessing are in Arabic- I also hear languages that sound vaguely like French, German, and even an early form of English.

The people are as varied as the languages. There are a lot of people with dark skin, but after a moment of thought this makes sense. According to what I learned in class the Moors were mostly African, not Arab. But there are people of every skin tone here, and probably every ethnicity in contemporary Europe and the Middle East is represented as well. The only way I can think to describe it is cosmopolitan. And there are just so many people! I would never have thought there could be a city like this during the Middle Ages. If it wasn't for all the people with horses and other livestock I could almost pretend that this was the modern day.

After several more minutes of walking there is a break in the building lined streets and I, along with the startling amount of humanity on Cordoba's sidewalks, spill out into a large square where a market is being held. This certainly explains the large amount of livestock. The market turns out to be just as remarkable as the rest of what I've seen. There are an enormous variety of goods. Food like lemons, oranges and strawberries, rice and sugar. Spices that are clearly exotic just based on the way that people are marveling over them. There are silks, furs, and other sumptuous fabrics and beautiful glass and metal jewelry. It's overwhelming. I'm so overwhelmed, in fact, that I don't even blink as I walk straight into someone.

"I'm so sorry!" I say as I stumble back a couple steps, trying to regain my balance.

When I look up I'm greeted by the sight of a familiar pair of green eyes and a cheerful smile. "That's ok," Spain tells me. "I wasn't looking where I was going either!" Like when I went back in China's history Spain is younger than his current self- he doesn't look a day over 15 and the roundness of childhood still clings to his cheeks. He's also dressed like a lot of the rest of the men that I've seen in a tunic of pale red, a white tunic peeking out the bottom. The hems are all embroidered, as are his colorful leather shoes. A gold silk sash is wrapped around his waist, a sheathed knife resting on his hip. Unlike a lot of other men, however, his head isn't covered by a turban or scarf, leaving his curly brown locks exposed.

"You're ok though, right?" Spain asks, looking concerned.

"Yea I'm fine." Spain continues looking at me and I begin to grow uncomfortable. Which is kind of stupid when you think about it considering most of my face is covered.

Finally he speaks up again, his friendly smile back in place. "You're new to Cordoba aren't you?"

I blink at Spain in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Everyone just has this look about them when they first arrive," he replies, his smile becoming rather smug. "If you like I can show you around. I know it can be overwhelming," Spain offers good-naturedly.

I smile back at Spain and even though he can't see my mouth his smile widens in return. I guess he's used to women having their faces hidden. "Ok. I'd like that."

"Wonderful," Spain says. "Follow me." He turns away and motions for me to follow. I'm a bit surprised for a minute that he doesn't try to touch me- he was awfully touchy-feely before- but then I realize that If I can't show my face and hair here then it definitely wouldn't be ok for Spain to be touching me.

Spain leads me out of the marketplace and out onto the city streets again. He begins to talk my ear off just like he did back in the globe. It's a little bit easier for me to take Cordoba in with Spain as my tour guide. I'm astounded by most of what he tells me. This city has 50 hospitals, 300 hundred public baths, and a public library and university? That's crazy considering what year it is. And, according to Spain, Cordoba is a shining light of scholarship with philosophers and academics from all over coming here to learn and debate.

I tell Spain this and his response is to grin at me in the same smug way he did in the marketplace. "What can I say? The Caliph wants this place to be the equal of Baghdad. It's a matter of pride. But if you ask me," he adds in a conspiratorial whisper. "It's better!" Spain then throws back his head and laughs, the sound true and genuine.

I can't stop myself from giggling a bit too. Spain's perpetual good mood is infectious. He seemed like this before too, but here he's got all the good-natured optimism of youth without it being tainted by his later history. It's…refreshing. And it's difficult not to agree with him. What other city could possibly equal Cordoba?

"Here! I'll show you what I mean!" Spain says suddenly, leading me towards a grand stone building.

I savor the cool air as we step inside and my eyes adjust to the darkness. The building is cavernous, one massive room as far as I can see, and calmly quiet. But it definitely isn't empty. There are large piles of cushions placed here and there, along with the occasional table and chairs. And then there are the shelves. They are placed literally everywhere and they're all piled high with scrolls, manuscripts, and books.

"This is a library?" I breathe in awe.

"That's right!" Spain murmurs back with a cheeky smirk. I shoot him a grin before stepping forward, eager to explore.

People are gathered in small groups on the cushions, discussing things like math and philosophy quietly. The snippets of the conversation I catch make me feel slightly giddy as I realize that I'm hearing people talk about a lot of the same things that I hear them talk about in the library at school. There are also people reading quietly by themselves, or sitting at the tables doing work. I'm amazed when I pass by one man who is quietly translating something that is clearly Chinese.

"This is really amazing," I tell Spain as we reach the other end of the library and a wall of doors that probably lead into private offices.

"I know," Spain says smugly and I shoot him a half-hearted glare. "Come on," he continues, motioning back towards the library's entrance. "There's a lot more to see!"

…

We continue towards the river, Spain pointing out one of the hospitals he mentioned before. We also pass the university, it's location obvious by the loud and sometimes boisterous discussions people are having outside. As we continue the buildings and houses begin to grow larger and the streets, if it's possible, become even cleaner. Large open parks, irrigated to the point where they're dripping with plant life, become more and more frequent. Suddenly a loud cry echoes through the air around us. I jump slightly as it comes again and the all the people around us begin to move en masse towards the river.

"What's that about?" I ask Spain.

"The afternoon call for prayer. I take it you're not Muslim then?"

"Uh, no," I reply. In fact I'm not much of anything. "Do you need to go and…pray or something?" I ask Spain uncertainly.

"Nah," Spain replies with a smile. "But I should you show the Great Mosque anyways. We can go in once prayers are over."

Spain leads me forward once more and the elaborate minaret of the mosque comes into view, quickly followed by a red and gold roof. We end up in a courtyard outside the mosque's walls filled with fountains and orange trees planted in patterned rows. Spain and I loiter for a while in the shade as he explains the history of the mosque. Apparently it was originally the site of a Roman temple, but it was converted into a church by the Visigoths- the previous rulers. When the Moors conquered Cordoba the Church was divided between the Christians and the Muslims and when the first Umayyad prince arrived in Cordoba he purchased the Christian side of the building and began construction on the current mosque. Pretty much every ruler since has expanded it.

A short while later people begin to move past us into the courtyard and Spain declares that prayers are over. I feel excited as we head towards the mosque, passing groups of people chatting. Spain has really built up my expectations. The walls of the mosque are impressive in and of themselves. We approach from the west, walking up to a long wall with multiple entrances into the mosque. Each one is intricately decorated with arches of red stone and geometric patterns. And then we step inside.

A wide, high ceilinged hall stretches out before us. The roof is supported by row upon row of columns, their shapes creating a shadowy forest in the light of the laps positioned all around the walls. The windows, made of glass set into more geometric patterns, also help to illuminate the space with the incoming afternoon sunlight. Above the columns are beautiful double arches of striped red and white stone. I breathe out a sigh of amazement as I walk forward through the columns. It is absolutely beautiful in here.

"Don't be too impressed yet," Spain murmurs into my ear, sending a shiver up my spine as he breath brushes against my cheek. "You haven't even seen the best part yet." I give him a confused look- what else could there be here that's more impressive than this?- but Spain just gives me a knowing smile and leads me further inside.

The decorations on the columns, the arches, even the ceiling, get more elaborate the farther we get into the mosque. Everything is in geometric patterns, but the designs get smaller, the colors brighter, and the materials more exquisite. Finally we arrive at the back of the mosque where a small area is separated from the rest of the space by intricately carved arches. Light floods down from above beyond them.

"This is the Maksoureh," Spain tells me as we step into the brighter space. "It's an anteroom for the Caliph and his court. Now, look up."

I do and gasp. Above us is a magnificent gilded dome. Ever surface is lined with brightly colored designs or Arabic script, which I'm slightly disappointed to find that I can't read. The dome itself is made up of arches, each as intricately carved and decorated as walls around us. I briefly wonder how long it must have taken to complete all of this. Spain taps my shoulder, drawing my attention away from the dome, and points to the wall directly in front of us. "That's the mihrab," he tells me. "The prayer niche."

My eyes nearly pop out my skull. If I thought the dome was impressive it's nothing compared to the entrance to the mihrab. The top is yet another arch, decorated in stripes of brightly colored geometric designs. Carvings surround the arch and beyond that is a square border of Arabic calligraphy. What's most impressive, however, is that the arch designs and the calligraphy are all mosaics, each one made of tiny pieces of glass and stone.

"This is incredible," I say in awe.

"It is isn't it?" Spain asks me smugly, clearly pleased with my praise. I glance inside the mihrab- though I don't dare step inside- and then Spain leads me back outside into the bustling streets again.

It turns out that the mosque is only a block from the river. The amount of people bustling along its banks seems even greater than farther back in the city, if that's possible, with most of the traffic concentrating around a stone bridge. It seems to be the only bridge that crosses the river. Looking up and down the banks of the river, the afternoon light reflecting off it nearly blinding me, I see the trend of grand buildings continuing. I can also see multiple water wheels indicating the presence of mills set up and down the length of the river.

Spain and I stroll out onto the crowded bridge and stop halfway to lean against the wall and look down at the water below. I run my hands over the stones as we stand in companionable silence. They're clearly very old, time and weather having worn them smooth. "How old is this bridge?" I ask.

"Hmm…" Spain considers quietly, turning his eyes upwards towards the sky as it slowly changes from blue to fiery red. "I don't know exactly. It's very old. The Romans built it," he replies with a slightly sheepish smile.

I stare at him, a bit startled for a moment, before looking back at the bridge. The Romans have been gone for a while… So I'm standing on a piece of history while I'm back in time in…history. I smile at the serendipity of it all.

"Ahh the city's beautiful in the sunset, sí?"

"Yea, it's really—" I stop as I realize that the last word tacked on the end of the sentence was Spanish. I whirl around to see Spain standing behind me- the modern one- arms crossed behind his head and a big smile on his face as he gazes at Cordoba.

Spain notices me staring at him and throws me a playful grin. "I'll take you back now if you're ready to go."

I glance at the city. It really is beautiful with the light of the setting sun gilding all the rooftops in gold. I almost don't want to leave- it's such an amazing place. But, I do still have a paper to write… "Yea, let's go."

"Bien!" Spain exclaims, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the door that manifests in front of us. The change from the bright open air to the sterile fluorescent light of the closest is abrupt and for a moment I feel an ache in my chest like I've lost something. I shake it off. I've got other stuff to worry about it.

Spain gives me a knowing grin, so like the one his past self gave me in Cordoba that it's eerie. "It looks like you enjoyed yourself."

"I did," I reply, unable to keep some wistfulness out of my tone. "What happened to the city later on?"

Spain's smile falters a bit. "Well…the Moors were kicked out in 1236 when it was conquered by Christian forces during the Reconquísta- the process of the Christians retaking control of me. I'll be honest- it was never the same after that." Spain sighs, his expression sad as his eyes lose their focus and he looks deep into the past. A shiver runs down my spine as I'm once again forcefully reminded that the countries _aren't_ human. All the things they've seen and done…I'll never understand.

Spain suddenly shakes himself out his reverie and gives me such a brilliant smile that I blush. "But the past is the past, no? It's all over and done with now! Go and change, Jordan!" Spain laughs, perhaps a bit to cheerfully, as he shoos me towards the changing room.

…

By the time I'm finished changing I know that Spain is no longer alone in the closest. And, alerted by a cheerful 'Ve!' and several quiet curses, I've got a pretty good idea about who's out there with him. As I open the door and step out into the main room I'm not sure whether to be pleased or not about the fact that I'm right. Spain has been joined by Italy and Romano.

"Jordan!" Italy cries happily, waving enthusiastically at me. Between him and Spain stands Romano, his arms crossed and a fierce scowl on his face. His eyes meet mine for the briefest of moments and then he looks away to glare a hole in the wall. "Did you have fun?" Italy asks excitedly.

"Yea I did actually," I reply as I approach the three of them. Spain beams at me.

"That's great!" Italy says. "Isn't that great fratello?" he continues, turning to look at his brother. When Romano doesn't respond Italy elbows him- none to gently from what I can see- in the side.

"You bastard!" Romano snaps while Italy pouts at him. Romano glares at him, but says, angrily, "Yea, sure, great, whatever!"

"Fratelloooo…" Italy's whine turns into a gloomy sigh.

Spain abruptly claps a hand on Romano's shoulder causing the other nation to jump and flinch violently. "Romano has something to tell you, Jordan."

Romano turns his glare on Spain, but Spain ignores it. "Ve! That's right!" Italy exclaims, his mood miraculously recovered.

Italy and Spain look at Romano expectantly as he looks between them first angrily, but then pleadingly. Finally he seems to snap. "Ok fine!" he shouts. Romano turns his glare on me briefly before looking at his feet. I'm struck by how nervous he suddenly seems. "I…I'm sorry, alright! For calling you a stupida donna…and yelling…and stuff…" Romano trails off, his expression very much resembling a petulant child. Dear God he looks adorable. I'm embarrassed to feel my face heat up in response to this thought.

"It's ok," I say hurriedly, hoping that if I move this along no one will notice my blush. "I forgive you." I'm amused to see Romano blush lightly as I smile awkwardly at him.

"Yay! Fratello!" Italy exclaims as he throws his arms around his brother's neck.

"Ack! Veneziano! Let go of me!"

"Awww, you're so cute Romano!" Spin says, grinning broadly. His puts one hand on Romano's head and musses up his hair before slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"Y-you tomato bastard!" Romano splutters angrily.

"I told you she'd forgive you!" Italy shouts happily.

"It make me happy to see you act so nice to a pretty girl," Spain coos, poking Romano's cheek.

Romano isn't able to stand up to their torment for much longer. He suddenly rips away from them both with a shout of, "I hate you both!"

Italy freezes, looking hurt, while Spain just looks surprised. And that's just about all I can take. I don't know what it is, but I suddenly find this whole situation hilarious. I begin to laugh, doing by best to hide my giggles behind my hands. I'm not very successful.

I'm surprised- and even more amused- to see Romano's blush deepen, quickly turning a shade reminiscent of his favorite fruit. Romano suddenly turns away, and with an angry yell of 'Chigi!', bolts for the door. This sends me into another fit of giggles. "I-I'm sorry," I manage to say, clutching at my sides. I feel kind of bad for embarrassing him that much. But by the way Italy and Spain are smiling at me I think it'll be ok.

…

It's around 10pm when I open the door of my room in a pleasant frame of mind and satisfied with the end result of my paper. I haven't eaten dinner tonight so- hungry- I'm heading to the kitchen to get something to eat. I think there's some left over bratwurst in the fridge. Until I run into someone very solid as I step into the main room of the house and fall on my ass.

"What the hell?" I hiss angrily into the dark, the only light coming from the street lamps outside.

"Oh, geez Jordan! You scared the shit out of me!" I hear Danny hiss back.

"Danny? What the hell are you doing running around down here in the dark?" I growl as I stand up again.

"Well, I was hungry so I was heading to the kitchen to get some snacks, but…" I realize why Danny pauses as I flip the light switch next to my bedroom door on. Every available surface and a fair amount of the floor space is covered in sunflowers. Potted sunflowers, sunflowers in bouquets, even bags of sunflower seeds.

"What…the hell?"

"I-I have no idea," Danny replies. With the lights on it's easy to see he's visibly shaken. "This must have been what he's been doing all night, so figured it'd be better to just stay the hell away from them." There is a sudden shuffling from outside the front door and the click of the doorknob turning. "Shit!" Danny exclaims in whisper. "Run Jordan!" And with those final parting words Danny scampers- literally- up the stairs and into the sanctity of his room, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

Feeling confused I look back at the front door in time to see Russia step inside with yet another bunch of sunflowers in his arms. "Ah! Jordan, you're back," he says, spotting me.

"What is all this?" I ask him, motioning in confusion to the sunflowers all around us.

"You said you would plant sunflowers, da? To fix the flowerbeds? So I thought I would get some for you. Tomorrow I will help you plant them." Russia's smile looks distinctly self-satisfied as he looks down at me.

I look at all the sunflowers. They're overwhelming- they're freaking EVRYWHERE. At first I just want to bang my head against the wall. But then I consider it for a moment. Doing something over the top like this is so utterly characteristic of the nations, but at the same time it's also incredibly sweet. I don't think anyone has ever done something like this for me before and I doubt they will again.

I find myself smiling warmly as I turn back to Russia. "I'd like that. Thank you."

Russia responds with another smile- this one just like that true, honest smile that he gave me outside this afternoon that made my heart pound- and an emphatic, "Da!"

**Author's Note- YOU BETTER READ AT LEAST THE FIRST PARAGRAPH IF YOU TRIED TO GUESS THE NEW COUNTRIES LAST TIME!**

As I'm sure you've already realized the correct answer was Spain and Romano! But, unfortunately, no one really got it right. I was surprised actually. And I feel kind of bad too…so! I'm going to change the rules (because I'm the author and I can). If you guessed ONE of the new characters correctly- either Spain or Romano- then I will write you a one shot off your choice! There should be 5 or 6 of you by my count. Just put what you want the one shot to be about into a review or PM me! And it can literally by about anything- historically based, crackfic, songfic, reader insert, I'll even do something with Jordan if you want (though if I'm already planning on doing it I'll probably just tell you to wait)- except for the two things I mentioned last time. Please just let me know! I really do want to write some one shots. And if you want it to be really specific make sure your instructions are because otherwise I'll probably just take your idea and run with it. And since this turned out to be pretty popular I will be doing this again when I introduce the final member of Jordan's harem (which should be relatively soon).

Anyways!...

Writing this chapter was both fun and frustrating. This is the last chapter where I'm going to attempt to describe an entire people and their history at one time- it's just way too difficult. And I don't think it makes for all that exciting of a chapter. Writing Spain and Romano was a hell of a lot of fun though. You'll be seeing both of them quite a lot more. I didn't like either of them all that much to start with, but they've really grown on me. And I think I can officially say that Spain is my favorite of the Bad Touch Trio. And in case you were wondering Danny is completely terrified of Russia now. Bwhahaha.

History Time!: The Moors were indeed a group of Africans from North Africa. They were a pretty mixed group of people, but most were black Africans who converted to Islam during its expansion. They first invaded what would become Spain in 711 and by 732 reached the limit of their advance northward. An Umayyad prince (and if you don't know who the Umayyads are you should Google it because my explanation would be long and probably over complicated) arrived in 756 and established Cordoba as the capital of Moorish Spain. Abd Al-Rahman III established the Caliphate there around 766. Cordoba began to decline in the eleventh century and was recaptured by the Christians during the Spanish Reconquista in 1236. During Moorish rule it really was an incredible place though. The numbers I saw for population ranged from 300,000 to 1,000,000, which is greater than its current population. And while I'm not sure I believe all the numbers everything I said about the baths and stuff is supposed to be true. The Caliphs in Cordoba wanted their city to be equal to Baghdad, so that's why there was such a patronage of art, learning, and culture. They introduced a lot of things to Europe, especially scientific advancements like agricultural techniques and the concept of a zero. The mosque Jordan and Spain went to is now called the Mezquita and the pictures of it are GORGEOUS and I don't do them justice at all (though it does have a Catholic cathedral in the middle of it now). The bridge that I mentioned is still standing today. I don't know about you, but Cordoba is definitely on my list of 'places I have to visit before I die' now.

16 REVIEWS! YAYAYAYAYAYAY! This is definitely the most reviews I've ever gotten for one chapter before. Thank you so, so, SO much for your support, especially: Sora'struelover, daleksuperfan, Pain and Betrayal, Rinny009, H. Tagi, ImmolationPiggieofDoom, Myrna Maeve, CeliaSingsSongs, Atama Ga Kuru Teru, Carefree Insanity, sora0995, Kotohime Haku, ShippudenFlower, and Otaku-neku. Holy crap that was a lot of names to type…but I LOVE it! You're all AWESOME! So…it's my birthday this week. And since you all can't give me presents since this is the Internet and stuff how about reviews? Da? PLEASE REVIEW!

And to ImmolationPiggieofDoom- the bonding-ness with Russia was all for you. I will get to his history, but it probably won't be for a bit. And you're also right in thinking that it's pretty much all going to be horrible/depressing. So have some fluffiness now! Piyo13- I hope the clothing description was a little more readable this time. I tried to keep it from being so detailed. And to be honest it kind of bothers me even when it gets super detailed.

Anways…whee this is super long as always. Um…there was some other stuff I wanted to say…Oh yea. Sorry about the update speed. I've been way busier this summer than I was expecting and I haven't had very much time to write recently. I may be getting some more free time here in a bit though, but even if I don't just know that I'm still working on this story no matter how much time there is between updates. Also I'm on deviantart now. I haven't uploaded anything, but if you want to be my friend or whatever it's . Just remove the spaces.

Thanks for reading all the way to the end!

imagination junkie


	9. America's Saddest Day?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or certain ideas from Atama Ga Kuru Teru's story 'World is Ours', but I do own my characters and this plot.

_**WARNING!**_: So this is the first potentially upsetting chapter that I've written for this story. I'll go ahead and tell you- it's about 9/11. I don't think that it actually ended up being that bad, but I don't know how everyone is going to react so this is just a heads up.

Also I know that 9/11 is still pretty politically charged in the US, but I'm not trying to make in political statements with anything I wrote in this chapter. So please don't start ranting at me about any of it.

**Chapter 9: America's Saddest Day?**

It's quiet…too quiet. I can feel my eyes narrowing in suspicion as I look around the main room, shutting the front door behind me. Britain is seated at the dining table with a book and a cup of tea. Japan is kneeling quietly in a corner doing calligraphy. France is bustling around in the kitchen making something that smells absolutely divine. And Russia comes in through the back door- forcing France to leap out of his way in fright- carrying a watering can and humming. He ends up settling on the couch and turning on the TV.

"Ok. What the hell is going on here?" I finally ask, too unnerved to keep silent any longer.

All four nations look up at me like they just noticed I was there. "What on Earth do you mean?" Britain questions looking perplexed.

"This!" I reply, waving my arms around to indicate the room. "It's all calm and quiet in here. It's not normal!"

"Perhaps it's because America isn't here?" Japan offers after a moment of thought.

I open my mouth to snap in response but then I realize that he's right- America _isn't_ here. And that's definitely unusual. Ever since that fateful day I entered the globe America has pretty much been a constant in the house whether Danny is around or not. Whether he's watching TV or playing video games or just generally making a nuisance of himself he's _always_ around. Except for today.

"Where is he?" I ask the other four countries, feeling quite confused and vaguely worried.

"Perhaps he saw a ghost," France comments airily sticking his head out from the kitchen.

"Or maybe he's gone to see his little alien friend," Britain snickers.

"Or maybe China has finally come to collect on his debts!" France and Britain roar with laughter at this, though why it's so ridiculously funny is lost on me. Russia is laughing as well, his chuckle light, and while Japan is trying his best to hide it he is obviously amused. I roll my eyes and allow them to wander as I wait for the nations' mirth to abate.

Until I see the calendar hanging on the wall behind the dining room table. "You guys are assholes."

That immediately shuts them up. "That's not very nice," Russia tells me, looking faintly put out.

"Chérie, what could possibly make you say that?" France exclaims, his tone affronted.

"Look what day it is." I point to the calendar. They all turn and look. After a moment I add, with another eye roll, "It's Thursday."

"But that's…" France gasps.

"Oh dear…" I hear Japan murmur.

"Oh. It's September 11th. Now it makes sense," Russia comments cheerfully. He has no sense of tact whatsoever.

"Now hold on just a minute Jordan," Britain says, turning back around with an anxious expression on his face. "We didn't realize what day it was. And we didn't mean to…I mean we didn't intend to…"

"Save it," I snap. "I don't really want to talk to you guys anymore right now." I turn and stalk to my bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Britain calls after me.

"To check on America!" I shout back as I slam the door shut. Ok maybe I'm making a bigger deal out of this then I need to. But they were making fun of my country behind his back when he can't defend himself and on a day when he's probably not going to be up for defending himself. Definitely not cool.

I drop my backpack on my bed and stride over to my desk, where the globe still sits, feeling determined. The only time I entered the globe on my own could be classified as just short of disastrous, but I definitely want to check on America. So I reach a hand out and spin it. "Take me to the World Conference!" God I hope that get's me inside the globe and not into some weird historical event.

I look around as the globe begins to slow. Just like the last time a door has appeared in the middle of my room. I crack it open and sigh in relief when I find that it really is just the inside of the globe. I head inside and out into the hallway that leads off the World Conference room. And that's when I realize I have no idea where I'm going. I turn to the right. Door after door painted with variously colored flags. I turn left- the same thing. Well, I'm not going to find America just standing around! I head right.

After a bit of walking and a couple random turns I spot the familiar stars and stripes in red, white, and blue. Ha. I knew it wouldn't be that hard. Of course, now that I'm here, I'm at a loss again. I've never actually gone and looked for a country before- there were always around and they just took me where I needed to go. There's also America himself. I've got no idea how he's going to react to me just showing up at his door. I hope he doesn't get upset. Throwing caution to the wind I knock.

There is a sudden flurry of movement from inside. A loud bang is followed by an 'Oh snap!' and then the door is wrenched open by a rather flustered looking America. "Oh! Jordan! 'Sup dude?" he asks, breaking into an easy smile.

Well this is…awkward. "Hey America. I just…uh…wanted to see how you were doing."

"Huh? What're you talking about? I'm totally fine!" America laughs.

I observe him carefully for a moment before calling his bluff. "No you're not." And so he isn't. His laugh is off and it sounds much more strained then normal. His smile is clearly forced and there are dark circles under his eyes. And his eyes themselves…the look in them…he just looks so tired. America doesn't physically look like he's any older than me, but just looking in his eyes…I'm reminded of how very _not _human he is. How much he's seen that I haven't.

"Yea you're right," America sighs, immediately dropping his front. "It's just, you know, today." I nod in agreement, uncertain as to what to say. America continues after a moment's pause. "You remember it right?"

"Of course I do. How could anyone not?" I reply. "I was in middle school- what? Seventh grade? Anyway, we were outside for PE and then all the teachers starting calling us in saying something about planes falling out of the sky. We didn't have TVs in our classrooms or anything so no one knew what was really going on but then they told us that planes were crashing. All the teachers seemed really freaked out. Then parents started to come and pick their kids up, but I was sure that there was no way my mom was going to come get me. I realized that something serious was going on when she did. And then I got home and it was on TV…" I trail off. America stays quiet, looking contemplative.

And then, "I was there."

I look up at him in shock. "Really?"

"Yea. In New York." New York City. The World Trade Center. Oh, America… His expression is haunted, the look in his eyes distant.

"Will you…show me?" I ask after a long hesitation. America looks down at me in surprise. "It's just…I was still a kid when it happened, you know? I didn't really understand what it all meant until it got older. But it had such an impact…and I kinda of want to see it so that I can really understand..." I shift under comfortably under America's stunned gaze.

There it is again, that air of age and tiredness in his eyes. "Are you really sure?" America asks me gently. This is the most serious I've ever seen him. And something about the way he's looking at me tells me that he's hoping- for my sake- that I say no. Too bad I'm about to disappoint him.

"Yes." My tone borders on stubborn.

"Ok. Follow me."

America closes his door behind him and sets off down the hallway. I follow him, but it's hard to keep up with his pace. I'm surprised when we arrive at my closest. "Do I really need to change?" I ask uncertainly as America heads down to the far end of the right rack. It's not just the fact that he wants me to wear different clothes that's throwing me for a loop. America isn't acting at all like himself and it's almost got me more worried than his obvious gloom that comes from today being what it is. I mean, I don't blame him for being down or anything, but it just seems really weird…and wrong.

"You'll be glad that you did. Take my word for it," he tells me as he comes back and pushes a bundle of fabric into my arms. I meet his eyes, but I can't tell what he's thinking- he's too guarded.

I go and change. The jeans fit a little differently and the T-shirt is a bit too big, but other than that this outfit is pretty much identical to something I would wear today. I step back out into the main room, but America doesn't comment. I'm not surprised because he definitely has a reason to be preoccupied, though it still makes me a bit uneasy. America opens the door for me and bright sunlight filters out. Usually the countries tell me to have fun or something like that. America just says, "Be careful." I step through the doorway.

…

The first thing that assaults my senses is sound. Traffic, people, construction- all the sounds of a vibrant city pulsing with life. I'm standing in the middle of a crowded sidewalk being jostled as people on their way to work push past me. Traffic is heavy on the street to my right with what seems like an endless stream of cars and iconic NYC taxis crawling by. All the buildings tower above me, their windows glittering in the morning sunlight. I feel giddy for a moment. This is the first time I've ever been in New York City before. And then I remember why I'm here.

There, towering above the other buildings in the skyline in front of me, are the North and South towers of the World Trade Center. I shiver despite the warmth provided by the sun as I think about what will happen…um, soon. I don't remember what time the first one hit exactly, but the clock in the window of bank says it's 8:38 so I know it's coming soon.

It's kind of strange to be here and know what's coming. All the people pushing past me on the sidewalk are completely unaware of how drastically everything is about to change. I'd like to be able to just keep on eye on the twin towers as I walk- nervously awaiting the beginning of the day's tragic events- but there are way too many people and I'd rather not provoke a random New Yorker's infamous wrath by running into them. So, instead, I bring my gaze back down to street level in order to watch for America.

Just when I'm starting to wonder when I'm going to run into him I spot a familiar head of wheat-colored blond hair, that stubborn cowlick waving loftily in the late summer breeze. America is walking away from me down the sidewalk in the general direction of the World Trade Center. He's dressed casually in a light jacket and jeans. He's got headphones- actual headphones not the ear buds everyone has nowadays- over his ears and I'd bet that the wire disappearing into his pocket is connected to a CD player. No iPods yet. This greatly amuses me for some reason and I have to stifle a giggle. Talk about nostalgic.

I follow America from a distance, curious as to where he's going, until I hear the roar of an airplane from overhead, the sound way too loud and way too close to be normal. I look up just in time to see the plane crash into the North tower of the World Trade Center with an almighty boom and a blaze of fire. My heart stops and another chill runs up my spine as chaos erupts on the sidewalk around me and in the street. Oh my God, I think numbly. I can't believe it. I just saw the first plane crash.

All around me people are screaming and crying. There is a lot of confused shouting as well, people wondering if it was an accident. It wasn't of course, but I suppose it makes sense that they didn't automatically assume it was on purpose. All the cars in the street have stopped, people getting out to gape. And there are people running, both towards and away from the site of the attack. I search for America among the confused and terrified masses. He is standing right where he was when I last saw him, his stance tense and shocked as he watches the thick black smoke roll out of the burning building as flames lick the broken windows. And then, suddenly, he charges forward, sprinting towards the World Trade Center. I stare, surprised, at his retreating back for a moment before taking off after him.

Shit, but America is fast! It's all I can do just to keep up with him. He uncaringly pushes people out of his way as he runs, though this at least makes it easier for me to follow him through the crush. We arrive at the World Trade Center complex, a plaza opening out in front of us as we dash across a street. The cars are all parked, but there are no people in them anymore. The few stragglers that are left in the street are moving away, though there's a flood of people emerging from the surrounding buildings. America doesn't hesitate, pushing into the North tower through the rush of people trying to get out without breaking stride. I follow him with some difficulty, the scream of sirens erupting behind me. As I step inside I just catch a glimpse of the tail of America's jacket disappearing into a stairwell before people running out block it from my sight.

The lobby was clearly supposed to be a fancy place, but now it's in shambles. All the windows have been shattered and there is smoke pouring from one of the elevator shafts. I cough and cover my mouth with my hand in an attempt to stop myself from inhaling it. People are screaming and crying as they rush from the stairwells and push their ways towards the doors. Some people are going out the broken windows. I look towards the stairwell that America disappeared into. I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing but I plunge forward through the crowd and into it. Someone else, a young man dressed in street clothes, pushes me from behind and helps me get through before disappearing up the stairwell ahead of me.

Moving up is slow going. It isn't long before I begin to smell smoke again and by the time I reach somewhere around the tenth floor it's starting to get thick. I stop a random woman as she makes her way down past me to ask why. She tells me that one of the elevator banks on the 22nd floor exploded and I get the funny feeling that it's the same one that was burning in the lobby. I hurry upwards once again, but I'm forced to slow down as I reach the 20th floor. The flood of people coming down the stairs has slowed to a trickle, but the smoke is becoming suffocating. It's gotten a lot hotter now too and I can feel sweat trickling down the back of my neck as I edge on to the 22nd floor landing. Before I take the time to think about what I'm doing, realize I'm insane, and chicken out I pull the door open and enter.

The smoke is even thicker here, making it difficult to see, and the heat is almost unbearable. I pull the neck of my T-shirt up over my mouth and nose as I walk forward. There are a few people still left here, most of them either helping someone else or being helped. "Hello!" I call as I move farther into the smoke. "Is there anyone who needs help?"

"Over here!" The voice is raspy and quickly overcome by coughing as I hurry forward to its source. I find an older woman seated and leaning against a wall.

"What's wrong?"

"It's my ankle," she rasps. Looking down I see that it's swollen and covered with dark bruising. "I got hit by the edge of the blast when the elevator exploded. I think it's broken." She descends into another coughing fit. Shit. I need to get her out of here before her lungs get even more damaged.

"Give me your arm," I say. She does and I sling it over my shoulder. Carefully I pull her up into a standing position. "Can you put weight on your other foot?" She nods. "Good." I begin to walk back towards the stairwell, the woman hobbling along with my help.

The descent back into the lobby is difficult. The woman is weak from smoke inhalation and nearly falls several times before I can get her balanced again. The other people on the stairwell don't try to help- they're either helping someone else or just rushing past- until we run into a group of firefighters between the 12th and 13th floors. One of them takes the woman from me and, swinging her up into a fireman's carry, runs back down the stairs.

I turn to head back up, but one of the firefighters stops me. "Don't go back up. We'll handle it from here."

I definitely want to listen to him. The smoke has gotten to me too, making it difficult to breathe, and the heat has sapped a lot of my strength. But there are a lot of people still trapped in the building and America's probably still up there somewhere too. "I can't. I've got to find my, uh, friend," I protest.

"We'll find them. Just get out of here. Now." This time it's not a request, but an order that leaves no room for argument. The firefighter gives me a gentle push down the stairs and the others hustle me along until my feet hit the next landing. I turn to watch them disappear into the smoke. I bite my lip, wondering if any of them will be one of the many firefighters who lose their lives here today. I whip back around and race downwards desperately hoping that they won't be.

There are more firefighters and quite a few police officers in the lobby when I reach it. It sounds like they're trying to get a handle on what's going on, most of them shouting into radios. More people are descending from the other staircases. The fire in the elevator has been extinguished. I'm just about to run out the front doors when America suddenly passes me, sprinting just as quickly as he was when he charged into the building. He's got a person thrown over each shoulder, both of them appearing to be fairly badly injured. I'm definitely glad I've found him again, though I'm surprised he's still able to move so fast.

I follow America as he crosses the plaza, heading for the waiting ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars. I feel stupid for not noticing how much debris there is out here before, especially since most of it looks like it was on fire at some point. Lots of cars have been crushed and I suspect more people have been injured too. There's smoke rising from some of the other buildings surrounding the towers. Many of them are still under construction. At least there wouldn't have been a lot of people to evacuate from them.

America deposits the two people he was carrying with one of the ambulances and then turns and races back towards the North tower. I pause. I don't think I should follow him again. I don't have energy to be running up and down staircases, not too mention the fact that the firefighters or police would probably stop me again. I turn back towards the emergency vehicles. Well I may not be able to carry people out of the building, but there's still something I can do.

I approach a harried looking paramedic and lay a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He turns and, after giving me a cursory once-over to verify my health, snaps, "What do you want?"

"I can help. My mom is a nurse, so I know basic first aid and stuff."

He gives me another suspicious glance before pulling me closer and shoving some supplies into my hands. "Alright," he says. It worries me that these guys are so swamped that they'd accept my help without taking much time to think about it. But I'm glad I can still be useful.

Not that I'm doing anything particularly complicated. Only people with minor injuries are pointed in my direction. Most of what I'm doing is bandaging minor cuts, scrapes, and burns or snapping oxygen masks onto people's faces. Or trying to bring people out of shock. Ambulances and other vehicles are constantly coming and going, ferrying the wounded out of harms' way. And we definitely get some people who are seriously injured. I try not to let my gaze linger on them for too long. Now is _not_ the time to be getting squeamish. I see America once more as he drops another two people off and sprints back into the North tower.

I have no idea what time it is, nor do I really know how much time has gone by when the air is once again suddenly full of the deafening roar of an airplane's engine. People around me scream and I look up just in time- again- to see the second plane crash into the South tower. There is a massive explosion as it hits, a fireball exiting the far side of the building as more thick black smoke pours into the air. I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. The second plane…more people dying more people injured. And it hit lower too… I feel sick just watching. I mean I knew it was going to happen, but seeing it again…

My thoughts are interrupted by the paramedic shoving me into the back of the ambulance along with the girl- she can't be much older than me- I've been working on. "Move!" he growls angrily. The paramedic's patient is already inside. The paramedic shelters behind the door of the ambulance as burning debris rains down around us. Once it stops he pulls us all out again. "Get of here," he tells me. "Take them with you. It's not safe to be this close anymore."

The girl I was working on heads off on her own, but the paramedic's patient- a young man also around my age- is still clearly in shock. I take his hand and lead him away. Other people are moving away too, along with a lot of the vehicles. I end up stopping down one of the side streets where another paramedic takes the young man off my hands and begins to treat him. I stay with this group and continue doing what I can to help.

More time passes. Apparently the force that draws me to the countries while I'm in the past is still in effect because America shows up several times carrying more people. I'm glad for this, as it allows me to keep an eye on him. I do my best to focus on helping the injured, however. There are just so many people though. It's crazy.

Suddenly someone screams. It startles me badly enough that I flinch and tear a roll of gauze much sooner than I intended. I look around, confused, as more people start to scream, the horror in their voices making my blood run cold. I realize what all the fuss is about when I see someone jump from high up on the North tower and watch their body plummet towards the ground. I can't help myself- I scream too. Clapping my hands over my mouth I look away, unwilling and unable to watch the end result. Tears well up in my eyes as I think about what must have led to that person intentionally ending their life that way. It's horrifying.

Following closely after that I feel a surge of hot anger. There are people out there who did this on purpose, that wanted to cause so much pain and destruction that people were forced to make a choice like that. And these aren't our military- they're innocent civilians who have done nothing wrong and can't defend themselves. Close on the heels of anger is hate. It burns slowly in my gut. The fact that I feel it so strongly- even though I think I'm completely justified to feel it at this point- makes me feel infinitely uncomfortable. I didn't think it was possible for me to hate anyone or anything like this. My hands are shaking so badly that I tear the gauze accidentally again. Damn it! I think I can finally understand why we went to war so quickly after 9/11.

I do my best to refocus on my task. To ignore the shouts and cries of the people around me. To ignore the fact that people behind me are falling to their deaths or being burned alive or are suffocating. To ignore the fact that somewhere half a world away there are people who are probably rejoicing in our pain. I'm trying but damn it, it's hard.

…

The passage of time is all kinds of messed up today, but I think it's getting close to an hour since the second plane hit the South tower… and that means it's going to be collapsing soon. I'm getting antsy. I haven't seen America in a while and I'm worried about what will happen if he gets caught up in the collapse. Will he die? Can the nations even die? I don't know. But if he does die what happens to the country? Again I don't know, but I _really_ don't want to find out.

Finally I spot him again as he drops another person off at one of the nearby ambulances. I'm not treating anyone at the moment so I hurry over and manage to get in front of him before he can race back off towards the towers. "Hold on a minute!" I tell him. I have to shout practically to stop him from running into me.

Irritation and something that looks a lot like desperation flashes across America's face as he notices me for the first time. "What?" he snaps. I never would have imagined that he could look so frantic and upset if I weren't seeing it for myself. He's sweaty and breathing hard, his clothes and face streaked with soot. There's a wild look in his eyes that frightens me.

"You can't go back into the towers."

"What? Don't be ridiculous! There are still people inside!" America pushes past me but I grab his hand to stop him.

He shoots a glare at me over his shoulder and easily frees himself from my grasp. Panic rises in my chest. "Wait! America! You can't go back!" My tone has taken on a pleading edge, but I don't care- anything to stop him.

America freezes. When he turns around there is surprise and disbelief written as clear as day across his features. "You know who I am?" he asks softly, sounding stunned.

"Yes! And that's why you can't go back! The South tower is going to collapse any minute now!"

Horror and alarm flashes across America's face this time. He turns and begins to run, but I grab his hand again and this time I dig my heels in. I slow him down but not by much. "Let me go!" he shouts desperately. "If it's going to collapse then there's even more reason for me to hurry up and go back!"

"No!" I yell back defiantly. I'm surprised America doesn't just rip his hand from grasp again. I certainly couldn't stop him if he really wanted to. "You can't go back! Look at what's happening around us! And there's the Pentagon and that plane that crashed in Pennsylvania too!"

"Damn it!" America shouts angrily. "Let go!"

"No! If you go back you'll die! And you can't die!" America freezes again. He turns and looks back at me, his expression suddenly and strangely unreadable. I never pegged him to have a good poker face. "You're _America_," I say quietly, out of breath from our struggle and my own heartache. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes, in response to both my own emotions and the anguish on America's face. "If you die what happens to the rest of us?"

America never gets the chance to answer as a deep rumbling that I feel more than hear fills the air around us. We both look around, spinning in search of the source, until people start screaming. "Shit!" America exclaims and I echo him with my own expletive as I see it too. The South tower has started to collapse.

Without hesitation America turns around and runs away from it, dragging me along with him as his grip tightens around my hand. I want to turn around and look, to see if it really is falling because in some ways I honestly can't believe it– or maybe don't want to would be more accurate. But I can't because we're moving too fast. The noise of the tower collapsing behind us grows deafening as we duck down another side street.

Suddenly there is an enormous boom and the ground beneath our feet begins to shake violently. "Get down!" America roars, pushing me to the ground and dropping down next to me. He throws his arms over my head and neck to protect my body with his own. That's just like him. I feel rather numb again. The ground is shaking so badly that I can hardly breathe as debris rains down around us. Suddenly we are enveloped by darkness and I cover my noise and mouth to stop myself from breathing in the dust from the thick, dark cloud that has us surrounded.

A strong gust rises, blowing back towards the site of the collapse, but once it dies down everything is strangely silent. Slowly America gets off me and rises. After a moment to catch my breath I follow. It is eerily quiet now and oddly dark, the light a pale gray as it filters through the dust and ash still hanging in the air. Everything is covered with it- the buildings, the cars, even America and I. Debris litters the ground, the pieces getting larger the closer to ground zero you get, though I can't see very far down the street. Some of the debris is still smoldering gently.

There are other people around us rising to their feet- they turned and ran as soon as the tower began to collapse too- but none of them make a sound. The sorrow hanging in the air is even thicker than the dust. And as for me I only have eyes for America. He's covered in dirt and grime, his mouth is agape, and his eyes are wide and staring. His glasses dangle precariously on the end of his nose. But there are two fresh tracks on his face, undoubtedly cleaned by the tears still pouring down his cheeks. I'm sure I've got them as well because I'm crying too. And the look on America's face, the complete and utter agony there…it breaks my heart.

"_No!"_ America's scream tears through the somber stillness and cuts into my chest like a hot knife. The pain in it is almost unbearable. I honestly don't think I have the mental capacity to process it all…and the pain he's feeling must be a thousand times worse. I find I can't move as America suddenly takes off, darting deeper into the cloud and disappearing.

Someone else screams and begins to weep hysterically and the feeling comes back to my limbs along with my panic for America's safety. "Wait! Come back America!" I cry, starting forward on trembling legs. "The other tower is still going to—!" My voice dies in my throat as a hand catches my shoulder. I spin around unsteadily and catch sight of the current America standing in front of an open door.

"It's time to go back," he says. The expression in his eyes gives me chills. It's just…so…so…dead. It's way more disturbing than it was before I left. America isn't supposed to look like that. He's one of the youngest of the nations. He's supposed to vibrant and full of life and ready for anything. So he's not supposed to look so…blank.

"But you…and the tower…" I protest weakly.

America shakes he's head. "I did some really…stupid things after this," he tells me, something like remorse flashing through his eyes. "It wouldn't be safe for you. Come on." He takes my hand gently and leads me back through the doorway. I don't fight him now. I'm too exhausted, both physically and mentally, to even consider it.

…

Steam follows me briefly as I step out of the bathroom, wearing my original clothing, and pull my damp hair into a ponytail. When we got back to the globe America offered to let me use his bathroom to clean up. I was definitely grateful because I was covered in ash and dust and I really didn't want either of my roommates or the other countries asking questions about it.

Now I'm standing in the main room of America's…um…I'm not sure what to call it. House I guess. It looks like one anyways. The main room is just a big family room with a kitchen and a dining area attached, like the house I live in. There's the bathroom off it and a couple of other doors that probably lead to bedrooms. The furniture is eclectic, but most of the main pieces are mission style like what you would imagine a house somewhere in the southwest having. America also has a massive TV and what looks like ever gaming system ever made. The rooms are spacious, but not huge, though they do get me wondering about what the other nations' houses look like.

The most amazing thing, however, about America's living quarters are the windows. Or more specifically the view from the windows- out each one is something different. Out one is a beach in what looks like Florida. Out another is a spectacular view of the Rocky Mountains. Another is the New York City skyline, the twin towers conspicuously absent after my most recent adventure. And yet another has a view of the White House. It's cool, really cool, but as I have no idea how it works I try not to put too much thought into it.

Walking farther into the room I spot America laid out on his couch. As I approach him I wonder if he's fallen asleep. One leg is hanging off the couch, his foot resting on the floor, and he's got one arm thrown up over his face. His glasses are laying on the coffee table. I hesitate briefly before speaking. If he is asleep I don't really want to wake him up. He's seemed so emotionally distraught today- and by that I don't mean crying and weeping, I mean acting so distant- that it'd probably be better to just let him rest. But I don't know how I'm going to get out of the globe without him.

"Um…America?"

America shoots straight up into a sitting position, clearly startled. "Oh Jordan, it's you," he says, laughing slightly though he still seems more distressed than amused. "So how'd you like going back this time?" I can tell by America's tone that his question isn't serious. In fact he probably didn't even realize what he was saying. He's just trying to deflect my attention away from him.

I ignore his question. "Were you…crying?"

"What? No! Heroes don't cry!" America tries- and fails- to laugh again. His eyes are red and his face is blotchy and he looks just as sad and empty as before, though I detect an edge of guilt now too.

I sigh quietly and sit down on the couch next to America, feeling my own guilt. "Look I'm sorry for asking you to take me back. If I'd thought it was going to upset you this much I—"

"No, it's nothing like that," America interrupts, running a hand through his hair, his expression slightly rueful. "I get like this every year…" he admits quietly.

I blink at him, slightly taken aback. "Every year? Even after all this time?"

America nods. He leans forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. "It's just that…I'm America." America's hands, which are glasped together, tighten, his knuckles turning white. "I'm supposed to be the defender of justice and democracy and all that stuff. All the other countries are always looking to me to see what I'm going to do next and I try so hard to always do the right thing. To be the hero I always say I am." America's face suddenly contorts with so much grief and guilt that it leaves me breathless. "But 9/11…it always reminds that I'm really just an idiot."

"There were signs before it happened, you see," he continues. "But I didn't pay attention…I ignored them. And then, God, all those people…" Tears well up in America's eyes and quickly spill over his lids to race their way his down his cheeks and drip off his chin. America doesn't make any effort to try and stop them. "I tried…but so many people still died. And afterwards everything just became such a mess…" America hunches over, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

"I'm just a failure Jordan. I'm not a hero. I can't stop bad things from happening in my own country so there's now way that I can bring peace to the whole world. I couldn't even prevent that terrorist attack and protect my own people…I'm just…a failure."

America completely breaks down now. I sit stock still, unable to think of anything to do or say. It may be just because he's my country, but seeing America so broken like this tears me up inside. My heart literally aches for him. But at the same time I'm a little angry. 9/11 wasn't America's fault and I hate to see him like this because he's blaming himself, because he wants to shoulder the whole burden.

"America please stop crying," I say soothingly as I lay a hand on his shoulder. He's seems to have forgotten my presence as he continues weeping like I'm not even here. I call his name again and gently shake his shoulder. Again, nothing. Ok, now I'm starting to get annoyed. And kind of freaked out.

"America!" I practically shout, reaching out and grabbing his face and pulling him around to face me. America is so surprised by my sudden outburst that his tears stop.

"9/11 wasn't your fault. There wasn't anything you could have done to stop it, so stop blaming yourself. And I know people died. I saw it…" I trail off as those recent memories flash through my mind. Sniffling once I swallow my own tears. "But you still saved a bunch of people. And I know you would have risked yourself to save every one of them if you could have. You _are_ a hero America. So stop crying already."

The surprise in America's eyes is replaced by something else, but he looks away before I can identify it. "No," he mutters despondently. "I'm not."

Something inside me snaps and I let out a yell of frustration. "Would you listen to yourself?" I shout, squishing America's cheeks together. His eyes meet mine. Surprise is there again, as a mumbled 'ouch' slips between his now pursed lips. "You're the freaking United States of America! The land of the free and the home of the brave and all that crap! How many other countries have changed the way they do things because they saw the things you did differently and realized that it was better? Maybe I'm kind of biased because I am an American, but you're the best freaking country in the world!"

With a frustrated sigh I let go of America's face and sit back, crossing my arms over my chest. America just keeps staring at me, his expression dumbfounded. "So what if you can't bring about world peace? That's something that isn't going to happen just because one country wants it to- you're all going to have to cooperate on that. But you're still awesome America. I think that and so does everyone else who is proud to call themselves an American. No matter what America we- your citizens- are always going to love you, ok? That's why we fight for you, why the rest of the world thinks our patriotism is so obnoxious. Because we're Americans- _your_ citizens. You'll always be a hero to us. Even if you mess up."

I feel my cheeks heat up as America keeps staring at me, the look in his eyes now astonished. And there's something else too, almost like he's seeing me clearly for the first time. It's kind of uncomfortable, but I meet his gaze stubbornly and I don't look away. "Do you really mean that?" America finally asks me, his voice somewhat husky from all his tears. His expression is unreadable again, but there's a glint of hope in his eyes finally.

"Yes." I tell him firmly.

America suddenly breaks out into an enormous grin, his expression finally something akin to what I'm used to seeing him with. This time America reaches out and grabs me to pull me into a bone-crushing hug. "Thank you, Jordan," he tells me, his voice choked with emotion. I'm pretty sure he's crying again, as he nestles his face in my hair. "I needed to hear that."

"You're welcome," I sigh back. I wish he wasn't crying again, but I'm relieved he's not so depressed now at least. I think it was JFK that said 'Ask not what your country can do for you- ask what you can do for your country'. And right now I'm pretty sure my country needs a hug. So, with a blush on my cheeks and a strangely warm and fuzzy feeling in my chest, I hug America back.

…

As soon as I open the door to my room and step out Britain scrambles to his feet from where he had been sitting at the dining table with France and Japan. Russia is still on the couch watching the same TV channel that was on when I left. France, Japan, and Russia- all of them (even Russia) looking apologetic- train their gazes on me as I stare back at them confused.

"Jordan, we're so sorry we—…" Britain's voice dies in his throat as America steps into the main room behind me. The awkwardness level in the room just doubled.

"Hey guys!" America greets them all cheerfully.

Britain exchanges worried glances with France and Japan before turning back to his former colony. "Are you…alright, America?" he asks, his tone suggesting that he's afraid America's going to snap and break down any second.

"Dude? What're you talking about?" America asks, cocking his head to the side in puzzlement.

"Well…I…I mean we…"

Britain squirms uncomfortably under America's gaze, until America throws back his head and laughs. "Chill out dude!" he chuckles. "The hero's always ok!" At this America throws me a quick grin, gratitude sparkling in his bright blue eyes. I smile back feeling my face heat up yet again as my heart suddenly races in my chest. America turns away just as quickly and leaps over the back of the couch, grabbing the remote from Russia's hands and quickly changing the channel.

Russia gives America an irritated look before getting up off the couch and heading back out the back door. France sighs dramatically and rises to disappear into the kitchen, but not before I catch sight of the small, yet satisfied smirk on his face. Japan, who had been reading a book when America and I walked in, ducks behind it again with the smallest of amused smiles on his lips. And Britain just stands there dumbfounded and spluttering incoherently as America cheers when he changes the channel to MTV and sees that Jackass is on.

"I was…you were…you…you _git_!"

America roars with laughter at Britain's outburst, while Britain's face burns red with embarrassment. I can't help myself- I begin to laugh too. Now this…this is how things are _supposed _to be.

**Author's Note**

So that's the end of the chapter. In some ways I really like it and in some ways I think I kind of over did it. It was actually a lot harder to write than I was anticipating, which was extremely frustrating. This was one the first chapter ideas I came up with when I decided to write this story and I'd been waiting to write it since then so it was pain to have so much trouble doing so. And while there were definitely times when I wanted to just bang my head against the keyboard I'm pretty pleased with the end result.

I hope you all enjoyed insecure!America. I know he was pretty OOC in this, but I am firm believer that America is a lot more sensitive and introspective than he acts most of the time. So yea. And I know I went maybe a little teensy bit overboard with the 'GO USA' stuff. But, you know, it's July and the Olympics are starting at the end of the month, so I'm guess I'm feeling a little more patriotic than usual. Though, no matter how much I complain about my country or make fun of it in this story, I do love it. And about the Olympics? I'm SO. FREAKING. EXCITED. You have no idea. I love the Olympics and when I say love, I mean _**LOVE**_.

History Time!: The September 11 terrorist attacks occurred on September, 11 2001 when 19 members of Al Qaeda hijacked four planes and purposely crashed them. At 8:46 am the first plane crashed into the North tower of the World Trade Center. At 9:03 am the second plane hit the South tower. At 9:37 am the third plane crashed into the Pentagon. And at 10:03 am the hijackers crashed the fourth plane in Pennsylvania after the passengers fought back. The South tower at the World Trade Center collapsed 9:59 am. The North tower collapsed at 10:28 am. In total, including the hijackers, 2,996 people were killed.

Now that was an extremely clinical rundown. The emotional and psychological toll was much more diffuse. 9/11 was, of course, the cited reason for our invasion of Afghanistan, as well as being a part of the reason for the war in Iraq. But, really, 9/11 changed so much more than that. Air travel, the 'war on terror', and a lot of other things stemmed from it. And it is also, I would argue, the most traumatizing event in recent American history, hence the title of this chapter. Also Jordan's description of her memories of 9/11 are pretty much mine. Since everyone's 9/11 story is so personal I didn't feel like it was appropriate to make one up. I tried my best to remain true to the actual events, though I did take some liberties with the details.

When America is talking about 'there were signs before it happened' I'm referring to the fact that we actually had intelligence that the hijackers were in the country and that they were planning something before 9/11 happened. The tragic part of that whole story is that the info didn't get around to who needed it and as such the plot wasn't stopped. JFK's quote is from his inaugural address after the 1960 presidential election.

Ok. So you thought I was excited about 16 reviews? No. It's nothing compared to how happy I am about NINETEEN REVIEWS! Seriously, I don't think I can put into words how happy I am about that. Every time I look at this story and see 90 reviews I get a little giddy. THANK YOU ALL SO VERY, VERY MUCH! Seriously! Especially…Lady Island Rose, DalekSuperFan, anonymous guest, 18katrina, Neeky-chan, Stella laLuna, , Atama Ga Kuru Teru, Carefree Insanity, Random Citizen, watergoddesskasey, NightCoringMadness, Alessia, sora0995, ImmolationPiggieOfDoom, Rinny009, Hinagiku Flower, and Bexreader! And I'm way too excited about 90 reviews to be bothered typing everyone's name this time!

So I've got 90 reviews right? It'd be really, really, SUPER awesome if I could get ten reviews for this chapter! Because then I'd have 100 before even hitting chapter 10! Which would make me super happy :). Also I have one of the prize one shots up so I'd appreciate it if everyone would go read and review it! And, Carefree Insanity, I swear I'll write yours next! And Rinny009 I'll get started on yours as soon as you let me know what you want! Also I don't know if you remember the other Hetalia story I said I'd started writing like two months ago…well I've posted the first chapter. So please check that out too!

I'm sorry if you weren't so into this chapter. I'm pretty sure most of my readers are American, but I can imagine that those of you that aren't weren't too impressed by it. But don't worry! The next one will be much more fun and a lot less depressing!

Thanks for reading all the way to the end!

imagination junkie


	10. Magellan's Expedition?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hetalia or certain ideas from Atama Ga Kuru Teru's story 'World is Ours', but I do own my characters and this plot.

**Chapter 10: Magellan's "Expedition"?**

You know it's not going to be a good Saturday when you're awoken by an almighty crash. And, unfortunately, that is my wake-up call this morning.

At the sound of the crash I fly out of bed half asleep, but still ready to alternatively scream bloody murder or punch the thief's/rapist's/serial murderer's lights out. My confusion and panic begins to fade as all countries- and I'm pretty sure it's all of them- begin shouting from the main room.

And then the panic comes rushing back. Shit! What did they break _this_ time?!

I slam my bedroom door open just in time for Danny- who has come thundering down the stairs- to run into me. We both stagger for a second before we regain our balance and are able to turn our attention to the scene before us. Apparently our entrance hasn't been noticed as the shouting match continues.

"Alright, alright, I've had about enough of this bloody insanity! Who's fault was it?!" Britain shouts angrily in an attempt to restore some semblance of order.

"Ah, calm down amigo. Who says it was anybody's fault?" Spain asks good-naturedly.

"Of course it was someone's fault! Things don't just break on their own!"

"But-!"

Romano silences Spain's protests with a quick slap to the back of his head. "Shut up you stupid tomato bastard!"

"How do we know it wasn't your fault?" France asks Britain slyly.

Britain swells up indignantly. "Of course it wasn't my fault you bloody, stinking frog!"

"Aw who cares whose fault it was! It was freaking hilarious!" America interrupts with poorly contained laughter.

"It's all of your faults!" China declares loudly. "If you all hadn't been so careless and paid more attention…"

China trails off, his voice dying quickly as Russia steps behind him. "Don't say that. It isn't very nice." China meekly tries to move away, but Russia keeps following him.

"If everyone could just calm down for a moment I'm sure we could figure out what happened…" Japan says. Or tries to say. His voice is easily drowned out by the racket being made by the louder countries.

Germany, it seems, has finally had enough. Danny and I watch him take a deep breath before opening his mouth and drowning out all the others with a tremendous shout.

"_ENOUGH!"_

There is a collective flinch from the other nations and they quickly quiet down and shuffle away from Germany after his outburst. This allows Danny and I to finally see what the fuss is all about. "Oh shit…" Danny mutters, alarmed, his voice carrying easily now that the room is silent.

Oh shit is right. Aaron isn't much of a heavy drinker, but he does have one contribution to the college stereotype of drunken debauchery in the form of his beer bottle collection. It usually occupies the mantle of the fireplace (that we can't use because it's bricked up, unfortunately) but now the vast majority of it is lying shattered on the floor. That certainly explains what the crash was. Aaron is _not _going to be happy when he gets home from his band trip tomorrow.

I step forward and put my hands on my hips. "Ok guys. Seriously, what the hell happened?" All the countries turn and stare at me, though none of them answer. I quickly lose my patience. "What?!"

"Your bed-head," America replies, stifling a laugh.

I stare at him dumbfounded for a moment before blushing furiously from embarrassment. "Just ignore it!" I snap at him, running my fingers quickly through my tangled hair.

"Ah, don't be like that señorita, you look very cute!" Spain tells me while smiling encouragingly.

My blush deepens. Behind me Danny snickers. "S-shut up!" I shoot an angry glare back at Danny before turning got face the nations again. "Just tell me what happened already!"

"Ve, I can!" I look up to see Italy bounce out from his hiding place behind Germany. He crosses the room before stopping in front of me and shoving something into my face. "It was the kitty!"

Italy is indeed holding a cat, which hangs in his grasp and looks back at me with an apathetic stare as I examine it. It's a plain thing really, just a brown tabby with yellow eyes. It's young and still in that awkward, leggy stage between kitten and cat.

"So…it was the cat's fault?"

"Sì! He's a naughty kitty!" Italy coos.

"Um…do you wanna explain that in a little more detail?"

With a heavy sigh Germany steps forward. "He found the cat outside this morning and, well, Italy can't resist anything cute…" We both glance at Italy who has quickly returned to playing with the cat in his arms now that he isn't the center of attention. "He brought it inside in hopes of keeping it, but he got distracted when Romano started yelling at Spain to make him some pasta. The cat got away from him and…" Germany motions to the shattered glass all over the floor.

"Man, you guys are toast when Aaron gets back," Danny says, sounding far more gleeful than he really should as he picks his way over to Germany and I.

"Why do you say that?" Britain asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "It's a mess, granted, but it was just a bunch of beer bottles."

"That was Aaron's pride and joy! He's been working on that collection since freshman year!"

"I hate to say it," I add, looking at the diminished number of bottles on the mantle apprehensively. "But he's right."

"Naw, don't worry dudes. Everything will work out!" America declares as he cheerfully slings an arm around my shoulders. I catch him shooting my still ruffled hair an amused glance and, annoyed, I poke him harshly in the ribs. America steps away from me looking wounded before slinging an arm around Danny who doesn't seem to mind.

"So can we keep him, ve?" Italy asks, suddenly appearing before me again with the now disgruntled looking cat in his arms.

"Sure," I say turning away to head back to my room and hopefully back to sleep.

Italy begins to celebrate, but before I can get more than a couple feet Germany stops me. "I don't think you quite understood what he meant." I raise an eyebrow at him over my shoulder. "The cat cannot stay with Italy."

I turn all the way back around now, frowning heavily. "What? Why not?"

"Romano doesn't like cats," Italy all but sings as he dances by, the cat swinging from his grasp.

"So what exactly did I just agree to?" I ask Germany.

"Keeping the cat here."

"Like in the house here?"

"Ja."

"Oh _hell _no!"

All the activity around me ceases as everyone turns to stare at me, surprised by my outburst. I round on Italy, glowering angrily. "I'm _not_ keeping that cat here!"

"But…but...ve, you said you would…" Italy's expression is crestfallen. Everything about him, even that funny curl that hangs off the side of his head, sags. Instantly I feel guilty. Damn it! Why does he have to be so freaking cute?!

"Oh no…Italy…come on…" My tone is pleading.

Italy is not to be swayed. His lower lip trembles as tears start to pool in his eyes. "But," he sniffles loudly. "You said you would…"

Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

Glancing around I see that everyone is giving me looks somewhere between accusation and irritation. Germany is glowering at me. Japan's face is as neutral as always, but there is an accusing glint in his eye. America and England both look surprised though faintly disapproving. China just looks down right irritated while Russia looks surprisingly not cheerful. Danny looks plain confused while Spain has lost his smile. Even Romano is giving me the stink eye.

Italy lets out another obnoxiously loud sniffle and the cat yowls mournfully in counterpoint as if to reinforce my guilt. Damn it all. I'm not getting out of this one.

"Fine," I sigh, defeated. "We'll keep the cat."

Italy's reaction is instantaneous. He immediately throws his arms around me with a cry of joy, tears apparently forgotten (or was he just faking…?), the cat squished in between us. "Grazie Jordan, grazie!"

Before I get the chance to try to slip out of Italy's surprisingly vice-like hold Spain throws his arms around me as well. "Ah, Jordan you're so sweet~! Look how happy you've made little Ita!"

The three of us are off balance now, our legs as tangled together as our arms, and we tilt heavily to the right. Before we can fall over America sweeps all three of us up into a massive bear hug, lifting our feet off the ground. "This is so awesome! We get a pet!" he exclaims so loudly I'm almost certain he's blown out my eardrum. "And a group hug from the hero is the perfect way to celebrate!"

"America! I…can't…breathe!" I wheeze. Ok, that's not entirely true. While America's hug added on top of Italy's and Spain's has made it difficult for my lungs to work, the real problem is the fact that _all three of them_ are this close to me.

Italy's closeness, as always, has a strong effect on me. He is warm, and he smells amazing, and he somehow has this ability to cuddle up next to me in a way that makes me feel like I'm on fire. Spain's body is lithe and strong, and with my back pressed up against his chest I feel safe and contented. America's arms are muscular and he lifts Italy, Spain, and I up with ease. He has his typical huge, cheerful smile on his face and his mood is infectious.

With all three of them it's way too much. My face feels like it's burning up and I'm certain it's so red that it's glowing as my heart thunders in my chest.

I can't handle this.

"America, please," I beg. Please just put me down so I can catch my breath and get a hold of myself.

America, as unruffled as always, laughs and gives us one final squeeze before opening his arms. Italy and Spain bounce away happily (though I think the poor cat may have passed out), but for me it's more like a scramble. I give the three of them a wary glance. America and Spain cluelessly smile back at me, but I would swear that Italy winked at me before turning to Germany and beginning an excited monologue about how happy he is. It disturbs me greatly to think that Italy might actually know the effect that he has on me. That could _definitely _be trouble.

"Anyways," I begin after clearing my throat. "Let me get cleaned up and then I can call Kaylie so we can go and get stuff for the cat."

"Huh? Why are you calling her?" Danny asks.

I snort. "_I _don't have a car. Are you going to let me use yours?"

"No."

"Exactly. And it's way too far to walk to the store." I pause here to think for a minute. "Then again I'm not entirely sure what all we need to get."

"Ah, excuse me Jordan-san, but I think I can be of some help with that."

I turn to Japan slightly surprised. "Oh good. You know what we need?"

"Personally I do not, but I do have a friend who knows many things about cats," Japan tells me, offering me a small smile. "If you don't mind I can go and find him and he can come along."

"Ok, thanks Japan," I reply as I smile in return. It's great that he's always so nice and polite and helpful.

"Excellent. I will return shortly."

As Japan departs the brief calm that all the discussion about the cat has generated begins to dissipate in an explosion of bickering. With a sigh I turn around, throwing Germany a grateful glance as he begins to clean up the mass of broken glass on the floor. It is way too early on a Saturday to be dealing with this stuff. And I need a shower.

…

By the time I step back out into the main room clean, dressed, and ready for the day everything is pretty much back to normal, minus the glaring absence of about thirty beer bottles on the mantle. The rest of the room is spotless thanks to Germany and the countries are spread out, involved in their own activities.

America and Danny are playing video games once again, and somehow they managed to rope Britain into playing as well. Most of the noise in the room is from him cussing at the fact that he's losing horribly. France and Germany are seated at the table, both of them reading, while Italy sits on the floor nearby playing with the horribly put upon cat. Spain is in the kitchen bothering Romano as he attempts to cook and a glance out the window shows me that Russia is outside tending the sunflowers, with an anxious China assisting him. The only nation not accounted for is Japan, who I'm surprised to see hasn't returned yet.

I sneak into the kitchen to get together a bowl of cereal and I manage to escape with a minimum amount of touchy-feely-ness from Spain and glaring from Romano. I end up settling at the table next to France, inhaling my breakfast in record time in order to make up for all the excitement this morning. About twenty blissfully normal- or as normal as things get around here- minutes later there is a quick knock on the front door immediately followed by it being slammed open.

Kaylie bounces into the room. "Hey guys!" she calls cheerily, beaming.

There is a chorus of greetings from the countries. France begins to stand, a lecherous grin on his face, but I grab the back of his shirt and pull him back into his seat. "Down boy".

France throws me a very convincing pout, but we're both distracted when Italy leaps in front of Kaylie and shoves the cat into her face. "Ve, look! Isn't he cute!" Italy exclaims excitedly.

"He's adorable!" Kaylie squeals, reaching out to scratch the cat under the chin and immediately eliciting loud purrs.

"Sì, sì! And Jordan says she's going to keep him! She's so nice! I'm so happy, ve!"

"Oh, so that's why you called me," Kaylie says to me around Italy, something in her gaze looking far too knowing for my comfort.

"Jordan who's your bonita friend?" Kaylie has to suppress another squeal as Spain steps out of the kitchen wearing a charming smile. Romano, who despite his virulent denial that he follows Spain around like a lost puppy, pokes his head out of the kitchen as well and quickly breaks into a lady-killing grin of his own.

I shoot Kaylie a warning look, but she's so focused on the two countries that she doesn't see it. Sighing slightly I decide I might as well get on with it. "This is my friend Kaylie. Kaylie this is Spain and Romano. They're also members of the International Club."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Spain exclaims, plant a kiss on both of Kaylie's cheeks as she blushes prettily. "Any friend of Jordan's is a friend of ours!"

"Sì, it's a shame we haven't gotten to meet you sooner," Romano says, stepping forward as Spain moves away. Romano takes Kaylie's hand and gazes deep into her eyes. Kaylie, being the hopeless romantic that she is, falls for it completely and quickly loses herself in his gaze.

Yea, that's not going to fly.

"You better watch him Kaylie," I say, trying to sound casual.

"Hm? What do you mean?" she replies absentmindedly, all her focus still on Romano. Romano shoots me a dirty glare.

Smirking I continue. "Well, he's got a pretty nasty temper."

"What? Really?" Kaylie asks, seeming slightly more aware now.

My smirk widens as Romano's face begins to turn red. His fuse is definitely lit. "I think you should shut up," he growls at me and I don't fail to catch the 'donna stupida' that he mutters under his breath.

"Oh yea. He curses all the time. It's _super_ charming," I say, placing as much sarcastic emphasis on 'super' as I can.

"Shut up," Romano, growls louder this time. His face is starting to get really red.

"Aw, Romano, don't be like that!" Spain chuckles, slinging an arm around the other nation's shoulders. "I think it's cute when you curse!"

Three…two…one…BOOM! Romano explodes. "Damn it you stupid tomato bastard! Do you ever shut up?!" he screams, his face now as red as the fruit he so covets.

Almost instantly Romano pales, his eyes darting back to the now surprised Kaylie, before he flushes red with embarrassment. With a cry of 'Chigi!' Romano dives back into the kitchen, leaving the rest of the room laughing. Spain follows to try and console his friend, but I don't know how much luck he's going to have as he's still fighting to stifle his own chuckles.

"Wow…" Kaylie murmurs, before turning to me. "Geez Jordan! How many hot new friends do you have? And how many more are you hiding?!" My only response to that is to sigh. Kaylie is, as always, unperturbed.

"Ve, so we're going to get some stuff for signore kitty, right?" Italy interrupts suddenly, the cat now lying across his shoulders like a shawl.

"Of course," Kaylie replies, her smile as wide as his. "Hey, you and that other guy look almost exactly alike!"

"That's because Romano's my fratello, ve!" Italy says brightly.

"Oh, cool! Are you twins?"

"No, just brothers!" Kaylie gives me a slightly confused look at Italy's vague response, but I just shrug. I mean I can't actually explain their relationship to her. That's territory that I definitely do not want to deal with today.

Kaylie brushes her confusion off and turns back to Italy, reaching out to stroke the cat's head. "Well, let's get going then! I can't wait to get the store and get this guy all kinds of cute stuff!"

I snort at that. We're going to be getting whatever's cheapest since I'm going to be paying for it. But, unfortunately, "We can't leave yet. Japan said he's got a friend who will know everything we need to get, but he's still not back yet…" I'm starting to get worried now actually. What could be taking him so long?

Before I can worry any further the front door opens again and Japan steps through. He looks surprised and then quickly embarrassed as he realizes that everyone's eyes are on him. "I-I'm sorry that I am so late," he says quickly, bowing in apology before hurrying into the room. "My friend is a heavy sleeper. Jordan- san, Kaylie-san," he adds, nodding at Kaylie as he spots her. "I would like to introduce you to Greece."

The arrival of this newest country- because that is undoubtedly what he is- is heralded by the cat. He wiggles out of Italy's arms and quickly crosses the room with a loud meow. The nation pauses as he steps through the front door to look down at the animal at his feet with olive green eyes. Absentmindedly pushing messy dark brown hair out of his face Greece leans down and picks up the cat. With the happy feline now purring contentedly against his chest Greece looks up and sweeps the room with a lackadaisical gaze, his expression very tired.

"Greece," Japan says, something in his tone suggesting that he's trying to reclaim his friend's attention. "This is Jordan-san and her friend Kaylie-san."

Greece walks up to the two of us. I'll readily admit that he is just as attractive as the other countries with that olive skin tone and muscular build, but there's something about his attitude that I just don't like. Kaylie is too busy ogling him to care. Greece looks both of us over carefully, taking enough time to make me uncomfortable, before nodding once. "It's nice…to meet you…" he all but sighs, his voice as sleepy as his expression.

"So that's where you went Japan! Ve, bringing Greece was a really good idea!" Italy exclaims.

"T-thank you," Japan replies blushing lightly, seemingly genuinely bashful at Italy's praise.

It's cute- really cute- and it's obvious by the way that Kaylie's eyes are all big that she agrees. However, now that Greece is here it's time to get down to business. I elbow her surreptitiously in the ribs and she shakes herself out of her boy-induced stupor. "Well, we should get going then!"

Italy, Japan, Greece with the cat now laying on top of his head, Kaylie and I all begin to head towards the door. Before I can follow everyone else outside, however, Germany steps in front of me like he intends to come as well.

"Um, Germany," I say, feeling rather hesitant to stop him. "You can't come."

Germany glances at me over his shoulder, his look frighteningly stern. "And why is that?"

"Sorry, but Kaylie's car isn't big enough," I answer, motioning out the door to the two-door hatchback sitting in the driveway.

Germany is obviously stumped, glancing between me and Italy's retreating back, his brow furrowing in worry. I smile slightly at this, remembering the bond of friendship that Germany described that day in the park. "Don't worry. We'll take care of Italy."

Germany's eyes snap to me, surprised, and he flushes a light pink. "D-danke. I hope your trip is successful." With that Germany turns around and stiffly walks back into the house.

Giggling lightly I make my way over to the car and climb into the front passenger seat after evicting Italy despite his whining protests. No matter how hard Germany tries to act it's good to know that he's really a big softie at heart. Or at least when it comes to his friends.

…

Kaylie pulls into the parking lot at Wal-Mart and we all pile out. As we head inside I grab a cart, watching, exasperated, as Italy cavorts about in excitement. "Ve! It's so big!" Italy exclaims as soon as we step through the doors.

"It is…quite spacious," Japan agrees, his tone bordering on astonishment.

"Welcome to America," I mutter under my breath. Now don't get me wrong- I don't mind Wal-Mart that much. I hate how they're always super crowded, but you can find pretty much anything you might need at one for cheap. But I sure as hell didn't want to spend my Saturday at one buying things for a cat that I don't really want to keep. With a sigh I turn to Greece who doesn't look the least bit impressed. "So, what do we need?"

"I'll…let you know," he replies sleepily, scratching the cat who now rests in his arms under the chin.

"Oh, Jordan! There are a couple things I need to get. You don't mind do you?" Kaylie asks, looking longing at the cosmetics section as we pass it.

"No, go ahead."

"Thanks!" Kaylie throws me a happy smile before darting down an aisle.

"Ve, where's Kaylie going?" Italy asks, sounding worried. "We can't let her go by herself! What if she gets lost?"

I roll my eyes. "Calm down Italy. It's just Wal-Mart." He still seems worried, but he follows Japan, Greece, and I as we head back towards the pet section. I pause once we get there, looking down a long aisle of pet toys, food, collars, and other assorted items. "So…what do we need again?"

Greece takes one long survey of the aisle, his head turning slowly from side to side. Finally he steps forward. "This…" Litter box. "This…" Cat litter. "This…" Cat food. The rest of us follow him down the aisle, me pushing the cart and Italy and Japan grabbing the things Greece points out. It's not a very quick process, unfortunately. Greece doesn't seem to do anything at a pace faster than an amble.

Greece pauses and as he leans down to examine some cat toys the cat wriggles out of his arms. I gasp and Italy let's out an alarmed 'Ve!' as he begins to trot towards the end of the aisle.

"Excuse me, Greece, but the cat seems to be leaving," Japan says, anxiously tapping his friend on the shoulder.

Greece looks down at his arms as though he hadn't notice the cat leaving- is this guy's brain as slow as the rest of him?- and then turns to see the cat's tail disappear around the corner. "Oh."

"Shit, shit, shit!" I hiss, sprinting down to the end of the aisle. I come to a screeching halt when I get there, frantically looking back and forth for the cat.

Italy, who followed me, crashes into me and nearly knocks us both down. "Ve! He's gone!" Italy wails once he's regained his balance.

"Why me?" I groan, slapping a hand to my face as Greece and a harried looking Japan join us. "I knew we shouldn't have brought that cat in here! If someone finds out they're gonna kick us out!"

"Ve! What're we going to do, ve! He's gone and we'll never find him and when I get home Germany's going to be mad at me and he's going to yell at me and then he won't let me eat any pasta and—"

Italy goes into meltdown mode. Japan glances at him with a mixture of sympathy and exasperation before turning to me. "Please don't worry Jordan-san. We will find the cat."

"Uh huh…" Greece adds.

"This is all your fault, you know," I tell Greece, shooting him a glare.

His response is to shrug nonchalantly. "…Sorry."

I sigh and grab Italy, forcibly holding him still in the hopes that he'll calm down enough to listen. "Alright, I guess we'd better spilt up."

…

I'm beginning to see why splitting up in horror movies is such a bad thing. I've been wandering around this stupid store for fifteen minutes and all I've run into is a couple of hung-over freshman and some very grumpy old people. Seriously, this store is way too empty for a Saturday morning. Now I'm just waiting for the monster to jump out and eat me.

But, in all seriousness, I think it's about time to find everyone and get lost. I know I haven't found that stupid cat yet, but I'm really more concerned about getting into trouble because we brought it here in the first place. And I'm sure someone else has found him. Right?

...Right?

Just as I'm about ready to pull my hair out I come upon the electronics section where Japan is standing in front of one of the long display cabinets. He looks like he's concentrating very hard on something. Curious, I sneak up behind him only to find that he's playing what looks like Pokémon on a Nintendo DS.

Freaking seriously?!

"So…I'm guessing you haven't had any luck finding the cat?" I ask, my tone saturated with fake sweetness.

Japan jumps violently and spins around. I scowl at him as he pales. "N-no, I haven't had any luck…"

"Have you even looked at all?" I growl.

"Yes, I did, but I couldn't find him and…" Japan trails off before visibly shaking himself. "I'm just offering you poor excuses. Please forgive my idleness Jordan-san," Japan suddenly says formally, offering me a deep bow at the end.

I let out a long sigh and with it as much of my irritation as I can manage. "It's ok, I guess. I just wouldn't have pegged you for a guy who would waste all their time playing video games. Though I guess you do make a lot of them…" I add, eying the DS suspiciously.

"Hai, my people do produce many video games. I am quite the enthusiast myself."

"How come you don't play with America and Danny then?"

"Well I used to frequently play with America. But I do not like many of the games that he is fond of and I quickly tire of his…energy."

I smirk, amused, at this. "Fair enough. Let the two of them wear themselves out right?"

"Hai."

"Excuse me, do you guys need some help?"

Japan and I both jump at the sudden arrival of a Wal-Mart employee, who looks between us expectantly. "N-nope," I say grabbing a hold of Japan's wrist. "Thanks anyways though!" I call over my shoulder as I drag Japan away.

"Where are we going?" Japan asks me once we are out of earshot. I'm surprised to hear him sound so uncomfortable and when I glance behind me I see his gaze focused on my hand around his wrist. Oh, right. Japan doesn't like physical contact. I release him.

Japan nods at me in thanks as I answer his question. "To find everyone else. Hopefully someone else has found that stupid cat and then we can get the heck out of here."

Japan agrees with my plan and we begin to wander as I was doing previously. Fortunately it doesn't take long for us to find another country. Japan and I pause at the end of an aisle where half-hearted grunts and disgruntled 've's are coming from. It's Italy, in the toy aisle.

"Italy?"

"Jordan! Japan! Yay you came to help me!"

"What are you trying to do Italy?" Japan asks. We both eye the massive floor-to-ceiling metal cage full of rubber soccer and playground balls that Italy is standing in front of with suspicion.

"The football! I'm trying to get it, ve!" Italy says, cheerfully pointing at a soccer ball that is wedged into the very middle of the pile.

"That's nice, but did you find the cat?" I ask.

Italy turns to me wearing a bemused expression. "Ve? Cat?"

I sigh heavily and Japan gives me a sympathetic look. "You know…the cat we came here to buy stuff for?"

"Oh, sì!" Italy exclaims excitedly. Then his face drops. "But I haven't seen him, ve."

I resist the urge to slap my hand against my face again. Is anything going to go right today? "Ugh, whatever. Let's just go find Greece."

"But I really want that football!"

"Italy, now is not the time for this. We need to find Greece so that we may go home," Japan scolds.

Apparently Germany is the only nation that can lecture Italy. Because, rather than listening to Japan, Italy turns around and dives head first into the pile of balls through the opening in the middle of the cage.

"Italy! What the hell!" I exclaim, grabbing a hold of one of his feet before he can wriggle all the way in and get himself stuck.

"Ve!" Italy cries, kicking wildly as I attempt to drag him out of the cage.

"Help me Japan!" I grunt, narrowly dodging a kick to the face and probably a broken nose.

"Hai!" Japan says, taking a hold of Italy's other foot.

What ensues is an epic struggle as Japan and I try to drag Italy out of the pile of balls and Italy tries to crawl further in. Considering that Italy is such a crybaby who always hides behind Germany at the first sign of trouble it actually turns out to be a lot harder than I would have expected. Finally though I've had enough. Exhausted, I shout, "Italy, come out of there right now or I'm telling Germany about this when we get back!"

Italy freezes for a second before back-pedaling out of the pile so quickly that he nearly knocks Japan and I down. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Italy wails as he latches onto me. "I'll be good, I promise! Just don't tell Germany!"

Just as I'm about to shout at Italy for almost knocking Japan and I over as well as making a scene there is an ominous creak from the metal cage. "Ve?" Italy asks, looking up at it.

The creaking comes again as the cage and all the balls inside it wobble. "Uh oh..." I mutter, beginning to back away.

"It…it does not look structurally sound anymore," Japan comments dryly, his eyes fixed on the top of the cage above us as the entire structure shudders. "Perhaps we should…"

"Run!" I shout as the cage suddenly collapses, metal and rubber balls going everywhere. The three of us turn and high tail it away from the toy aisle, balls rolling around our feet and bouncing around our heads, alternately threatening to brain us or trip us.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Italy yells over and over again as we run, once again blubbering about Germany.

"Just shut up and run!" I shout at him, finally losing my patience. I shove him forward, knowing for a fact that he can run faster than his current shuffle. Apparently my push somehow turned on Italy's flight or flight response and he takes off in a dead sprint with a cry of fright. All I can do is gape at his quickly disappearing back. "Wait! Not that fast!"

Crap! If we lose sight of him now we'll probably never find him! With this thought in mind I put my head down and open up my stride, my only goal as I sprint forward being to keep from losing Italy again. I guess I really didn't need to worry about it though, as I collide with him where he's stopped in the middle of an aisle.

With a yelp I fall backwards, but Japan catches me before I can hit the floor. "Thanks," I mutter to him as he helps me back on my feet. I turn to Italy to give him a piece of my mind, but I'm stopped by the sight of him giving me that dopey smile that always manages to melt my heart.

"Ve, look! Greece is sleeping!" Italy whispers, pointing. And there, on one of those bedroom set-ups in the furniture section before us is Greece, sprawled out on a bed fast asleep.

This time I really do face-palm. "Just wake him up, already! We need to get out of here!" I hiss. Japan and Italy both jump to it, but it takes them several minutes to rouse him from his slumber. Finally Greece sits up, blinking blearily at the three of us.

"Have a nice nap?" I ask him, my tone icy.

Greece yawns widely before replying, "Uh huh…"

"And the cat? Did you find it?"

"…No."

Before I get the chance to respond to that static and a voice from the loudspeaker echo through the store. "All Wal-Mart patrons, please avoid aisle 19 as there has been a large accident. If you were responsible for this please report to customer service at the back of the store. I repeat, please report to customer service. We don't want to have to get the police involved."

Japan, Italy, and I exchanged panicked glances. The severity of the situation seems to be lost on Greece, however, as he just yawns.

"Shit! We have to get out of here!" I exclaim. I'm definitely panicking now. Together Italy, Japan, and I manage to hustle Greece out of the furniture section. We sneak through the front section by the registers- more like sprint through it- and manage to get outside unmolested.

We're just starting to catch our breath out in the parking lot when I remember what we've forgotten. "Oh my God! Kaylie!" I shout, the panic returning.

"Yea, aren't you forgetting something?"

"Kaylie!" I shout joyfully, turning around to see her with a bag in one hand and- if you can believe it- the cat in the other.

"Ve, you found him!" Italy cheers, jumping forward to take the cat from Kaylie and cradling him affectionately in his arms.

"Yep," Kaylie replies, clearly amused. "What was he doing running around loose anyways?"

"Greece got careless," I reply, shooting the nation a glare, which he either ignores or doesn't notice. "Anyways, let's get out of here."

"Yea, I got everything I needed. Did you guys hare that announcement earlier though? It sounded crazy. I wonder what happened."

I exchange apprehensive glances with Italy and Japan. "No idea," I say as I hastily slide into the passenger seat of Kaylie's car.

It isn't until we're halfway back to the house that Kaylie turns to me and asks, "So did you get everything you needed for the cat?"

"…Damn it!"

…

"Come on, just tell us already!"

"Yea, Jordan! Please!"

I pause in slathering cream cheese on my bagel to turn a glare on Danny and America as they peek at me over the back of the couch, apparently taking advantage of their loading screen to bug me some more about what happened yesterday.

"No. I already told you that what happens at Wal-Mart stays at Wal-Mart. Don't you have homework to do anyways Danny?"

"Nope," he replies, obnoxiously popping the 'p'.

"Fine! If you won't tell us and Japan won't tell us then we'll just get Italy to tell us!"

Japan, who is sitting at the table with me absorbed in his own Nintendo DS this time, rolls his eyes. "Good luck with that," I scoff, nodding towards where Italy is harassing Germany in the kitchen as the other nation tries to prepare food for lunch.

America and Danny exchange concerned glances and then pout at me. "Well…we'll ask Greece then!" America declares.

"I'm afraid Greece doesn't know what happened," Japan tells them, his tone politely neutral, though I can detect a hint of smugness. I shoot them a snarky grin as well.

Danny scowls at me and turns around. "Awww man," America whines until the TV lets out a loud blast of sound to announce that the game has finished loading. America whips back around, all thoughts of uncovering what happened yesterday forgotten.

They've been at this almost constantly since we all returned home yesterday (after a quick stop at the pet store to pick up the things we didn't get at Wal-Mart). Greece left almost as soon as we arrived, saying that he needed a nap, while the rest of us got the cat settled. Germany was of course relieved to see Italy return safe and sound and I think Japan and I were just glad to get home. Fortunately the rest of the weekend has been quiet so far.

And then the handle on the front door jiggles, the door swings open, and Aaron slouches in. "Hey guys. How's it…going…" His voice trails off as he gaze fixes on the reduced number of beer bottles on the mantle. There's a dull thud as Aaron drops his bag. "What happened?"

Danny and I both freeze. Aaron's voice is calm, way too calm…it's the calm before the storm. None of the countries in the room seem to sense the danger, however, and either ignore him or glance at him, confused.

"I said…" Aaron fixes both Danny and I with piercing gazes. "_What happened__?!_"

Britain, who is also sitting at the table with Japan and I, nearly drops his teacup. China nearly knocks his chair over (he's also at the table), catching himself just before he tips over backwards. There is a pitiful sound from Japan's DS as he accidentally hits the office button. A massive explosion issues from the TV as America messes up his last shot. There is a crash from the kitchen and Germany and Italy both leap out into the main room like they're looking for a fire (Germany determined and Italy terrified). The door to my room opens and Spain, Romano, and France all poke their heads out…I don't want to know what they were doing in there. Russia pokes his head in through the open window and asks, "You called?"

Now that he has everyone's attention Aaron looks at everyone carefully, his accusing eyes roving over our faces. A quick glance around shows most of the countries looking at least a little worried. I guess they're finally taking our warning seriously.

"_Well?_" Aaron snarls.

He is distracted by a loud meow from the cat that saunters up to him and takes a seat at his feet. The anger on Aaron's face subsides as the cat gazes up at him, flicking its tail expectantly. Aaron leans down and pets him. "We have a cat now?"

"Yea…unfortunately," I add in undertone.

"That's what happened to your beer bottles," Germany confesses with a sigh. "Italy brought him inside, but he didn't watch him closely enough. The cat jumped up on the mantle and knocked them down."

"Ve…I'm sorry Aaron," Italy sniffles from his hiding place behind Germany. "Please don't be mad and act all scary again."

"Hmmm…It's ok I guess," Aaron replies earning a shocked gasp from Danny. "It's hard to be mad at a cat." I'm surprised as well. Who knew Aaron was such a cat person? "Have you named him yet?"

"Well…no," I admit. "I haven't even thought about it."

"I'll name him then," Aaron says. No one dares to argue with him. Aaron scoops the cat up into his arms where it settles, happily purring away. "Magellan."

There are two noises of confusion from the couch. I frown too. That name sounds familiar, but I can't quite place it…

"What, you mean like the man whose crew first circumnavigated the world?" Britain asks.

"Exactly. It's appropriate don't you think?" There is a lot of uncomfortable shifting from the nations around the room at that. But, yea, it actually is freakishly appropriate.

"Oh!" Spain suddenly exclaims. "I remember him now. Haha, he was a funn—oof!" He's cut off as Romano embeds his elbow in Spain's gut.

"Shut up, idiota!" Romano hisses.

Aaron gives the two of them a funny look. I sigh in silent relief when he finally looks away. "Anyways…" He picks his bag back up and heads upstairs, the cat newly christened 'Magellan' still in his arms.

With Aaron's departure the tension in the room deflates. Italy cheerily dances back into the kitchen, Spain and Romano's latest spat/hugfest spills into the main room, and Danny and America get back down to the very serious business of playing Halo.

I lean back in my chair and run my hand through my hair with a sigh. Man, I'm glad that we got through that with it turning into the apocalypse. Except…

"I guess we really are gonna have to keep the cat now."

It was just a murmur, but apparently Germany's got some sharp hearing. "You make that sound like it's a bad thing," he comments, pausing on his way back to the kitchen.

"It's not, I guess. I'm just not much of a cat person."

"Oh? I see."

"Yea, dogs are way better."

"R-really?" Startled by the surprise in Germany's tone I look up just in time to catch the light pink dusting of a blush on his cheeks as he darts back into the kitchen.

What was that about?

**Author's Note**

This chapter…I don't even know. I actually like the first half a lot, but writing the second half was like pulling teeth, which I think is why it ended up so…cracky. I will freely admit that this pretty much just 19 pages of filler. I hope you found it entertaining anyways. Though I am planning on using Magellan to help move the plot along at a later point. I actually originally wanted to give Jordan a cat, but I just couldn't figure out a way to work it into the first or second chapters, which is where this one came from. Magellan is like the greatest name ever for a cat by the way. The actual Magellan was Portuguese, but he served the King of Spain hence Spain remembers him. His crew was the first group of people to circumnavigate the globe. He didn't make it because he died in the Philippines.

Next chapter we'll get back into history stuff. My current plan is to do Japan, then introduce the final member of the harem, and then get into some British/French history. I have no idea when I'm going to get to that stuff though because I'm going to be super busy this semester. The only reason you got this chapter, actually, is that I've had it half done for a while.

31 reviews. Oh. My. God. Like, seriously, I'm blown away. I never would have thought I'd get 31 reviews for one chapter of any story. I can't believe how much you all love this story and it makes me so ridiculously happy. You guys went way beyond what I asked and hoped for and I'm so, so thankful to have such an awesome group of readers for this story. THANK YOU SO MUCH to: Sasuna123, Hinagiku Flower, Carefree Insanity, Neeky-chan, HanajimaShields, Quiet harmony, ThisIsPasta, Atama Ga Kuru Teru, anonymous guest, CookieBirdGirl, feltonxxdodo, iAMthedamnhero, Hopefaith2, Leixym, Stella laLuna, Lady Island Rose, DalekSuperFan, Otaku-neku, watergoddesskasey, KaliUchihaHatake, Rinny009, Mashmellowtime, Hikari-Tenshi-Yuri, Colors and Irony, xXRedPokerGirlXx, and Piyo13!

I'm glad that chapter 9 got such a positive response as well. And thank you all for sharing your stories with me :). I'm planning on doing stuff like that with all the countries- where I go into the darker parts of their history. Like, for example, I already have an idea for a Holocaust chapter. It'll be a while before we get there though. I think the next one will be Inquisition!Spain. To be perfectly honest I kind of like writing dark/drama stuff like that so I'm really kind of looking forward to them.

If you want to read more of my writing I've got some reader inserts up on my deviantart account (I've actually been really active there lately). Hopefully it won't be TOO long before I get the next chapter out!

Thanks for reading all the way to the end!

imagination junkie


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